


Not Your Fault

by writeratheart007301



Series: Blue and Green and Everything in Between [2]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 94,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25768204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeratheart007301/pseuds/writeratheart007301
Summary: Natasha reached behind her to produce a knife and cut off the ropes above Maria with one smooth flick of her wrist, her gaze never leaving Maria’s face.Maria fell to her knees the moment she was released, her injured body unable to support her weight anymore. Her palms were flat against the floor, and she kept looking down, waiting for the pain to subside.“Down on your knees, huh, Hill?" Natasha scoffed, "That your way of thanking me for saving your ass?”“Wouldn’t you like that," Maria replied, "You’d better pray that you’ve followed my orders before coming here, Romanoff.”“I’ve got an order for you this time, Agent Hill," Natasha said, her eyes challenging Maria to disobey her, "Never kneel in front of anybody ever again.”
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Series: Blue and Green and Everything in Between [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856581
Comments: 19
Kudos: 220





	1. The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've had this story stashed away since forever. I finally decided to complete it, given that I had a lot of time on my hands because of the whole lockdown sitch. 
> 
> And though this comes second in the series, it can be read as a standalone story. It is set at the time when S.H.I.E.L.D. first gets the Tesseract, so probably after the events of 'Thor' and before 'The Avengers.' Sorry if I'm screwing with the timeline. 
> 
> The story is damn freaking long and it starts with an op almost gone wrong, so the first few chapters are sort of mission-heavy (it's kind of needed to be that way, sorry). But the plot goes on to cover everything (I hope), from action, angst, pining, to them falling love itself. And the challenges after that. I feel like the characters of Romanoff and Hill give a lot of room for all the themes. 
> 
> Enough of me, then. Apologies for the long note. And for any typos/grammatical errors.
> 
> Enjoy the story, and stay safe!

## The Soldier

Lieutenant Maria Hill was utterly exhausted as she read yet another memo from an agent in Eastern Europe. She groaned internally at the fact there was a whole other pile of reports demanding her attention.

Ever since they had stumbled upon the Tesseract, Fury had become more driven than ever to implement Avengers Initiative, and he’d gotten deathly busy with numerous (pointless) meetings with the councilmen. Of course, that had made a ton of the work fall on Maria’s shoulders, as if there wasn’t enough already.

And the memos that she was going through were causing her irritation to skyrocket right now. A couple of years ago, S.H.I.E.L.D. had intercepted intel about a delocalised group of scientists. It was being the Syndicate, for the lack of another name. They were harmless, for the most part, and their attributes weren’t exactly surprising.

The organisation was well funded – by clandestine patrons, of course – and it carried out covert research in a wide range of areas. They had several remote laboratories across the globe, and there were sub-teams of scientists working at each lab.

The Syndicate was also extremely protective of their work, employing ghost armies of ex-military officers and even assassins to secure their laboratories. About 18 months ago, a mission to infiltrate one of their research facilities had gone horribly wrong. And it had almost cost Maria five of her agents and an explosion at a minor nuclear reactor that would have wiped out a village in Central Africa.

Maria remembered the Director’s pissed off reaction during the debrief.

The organisation hadn’t raised any red flags on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar ever since that near fuck-up of an op, and Maria had ensured that they didn’t ruffle The Syndicate’s feathers during the subsequent reconnaissance missions.

And it had all been going smoothly, until Selvig began investigating the Tesseract.

As if on cue, the agents assigned to a research facility in Eastern Europe had started reporting a flurry of events that had begun taking place around them. And, while their memos only revealed generic details about materials being transported in and out of the lab (in large fleets of trucks), Maria knew that the timing of the sudden development was no coincidence.

She had immediately assigned a group of technicians to determine how the information about the Tesseract had even leaked – assuming that this was really about the Tesseract – but she still needed to know what exactly the Syndicate was up to. And, if her hunch was right, they needed a carefully devised mission to find out just that.

Now, as Maria sat in her office, the neon clock on her computer indicating that the time was 3:44 a.m., she knew she had to come up with that plan soon. And since it was related to the Tesseract, the mission was of high priority, _obviously._ And that required her to pick the best of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents.

Too bad for Maria, that included a certain red-headed assassin-turned-spy who was too cocky for her own good.

Just the thought made her exhaustion multiply tenfold.

Agent Natasha Romanoff was trouble, to say the least. Sure, she was incredibly efficient at her work, but she also seemed to have a pathological need to disregard orders. She was always, _always_ her own master.

And Maria liked to be in control; she enjoyed watching her strategies play out perfectly. But then Natasha would cartwheel her way in, bending and breaking her plans to get what was wanted, in the way that _she_ wanted.

_Every. Single. Time._

And she would succeed, much to Maria’s irritation (and admiration). She remembered all those debriefing sessions where Natasha would be looking smugly at her, green eyes gleaming with sass, infuriating and exciting Maria all at the same time.

Over time, though, after witnessing each other’s competence, both women had come to develop a mutual respect. And even though neither would admit it, they had started seeking each other’s company, even engaging in banter just to keep the conversation going.

And, for all her expertise in recognising patterns and trends, Maria wasn’t able to pinpoint whether it could be called flirting.

Because, despite the palpable chemistry, there was still this invisible barrier in between them, ever-present and impenetrable. When Maria would “coincidentally” pass by the medbay to check if Natasha had her post-mission injures tended to properly. When either one would have the other’s head gripped under their elbow in a deadlock during their frequent sparring sessions.

When Maria would run into Natasha in the middle of the night, only to find her looking lost, scared and _broken._ When Maria would intuitively know that it was because of a nightmare. And when she would fight the instinct to gather the redhead into her arms and just hold her there.

Whatever was between was them was as dangerous as it was tempting. Both knew that they were playing with fire, and neither wanted to crash and burn if they tried to pursue it.

But they had been going at their little game of chicken for far too long now, and Maria didn’t know when, but she had eventually gotten tired of it, much to her own surprise. She had come to care about Natasha in a way that extended far beyond professionalism, and it was a change that had started to alarm Maria.

Her contingency plans for Natasha’s missions would often be way more elaborate than for those of any other agent. And she’d found herself waiting with bated breath for the redhead to safely return to the Helicarrier too many times to count.

Maria knew that what she felt for Natasha wasn’t mere attraction; there was more to it that she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out.

She shook her head to prevent her thoughts from lingering on the shorter woman. There wasn’t any time for that right now.

She had a strategy to plan.

## The Widow

Natasha had just exited her quarters that morning when she found herself staring at Clint’s face, his lips turned up in a shit-eating grin. She simply cocked an eyebrow up in question, not wasting any words on him.

“ _Agent Hill_ has called us over to Meeting Room 7,” he told her, offering her no more of an explanation.

Just the lieutenant’s name was enough to make Natasha’s heart flutter with delight, much to her embarrassment. Clint seemed to sense that and pursed his lips, trying to hide his smile in vain. He’d seen her stare at Maria once – just _once –_ and had never let go of a chance to tease her ever since.

And while Clint’s pestering made it look like a childish crush, Natasha would never let him know just how much more than that it really was. She was intrigued by Maria Hill more than she’d like to admit. Without even having an overtly deep connection, Maria made Natasha feel comfortable in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

Barring the initial period when she had just defected to S.H.I.E.L.D. and had yet to prove her loyalty, Natasha had never felt any kind of animosity from her. And she knew that Maria was well aware of all the red on her ledger. Despite that, Maria had come to respect her over time.

And Natasha wasn’t used to that. People had feared her. Desired her. _Loathed_ her. No one had ever, _ever,_ respected her.

And while Maria was always frugal with her words, Natasha could feel it in each of their interactions. When Natasha would return victorious from a rather difficult mission to find Maria waiting at the Helicarrier, her head tipping just slightly to convey her appreciation.

When Natasha would land a particularly well-placed punch while they sparred, only to earn a fond chuckle from the otherwise impassive woman. When Natasha would point out a flaw in Maria’s strategy and the agent’s sharp, blue eyes would widen in awe, reflecting just how impressed she was by her.

Maria had always regarded her as an equal. She was more interested in what Natasha was capable of, not for who she had been or what she had done. And maybe, that’s why it was extremely important to Natasha to make sure she never disappointed her. Even though she never saw it in herself, _Maria_ could see the good in her. And that was enough for Natasha.

But she knew that her past would always be a part of her. While she could somehow keep her demons caged, she would never truly get rid of them. Maria could probably look past it, but Natasha knew she was a monster; the bringer of only death and destruction.

So, she had tried exceptionally hard to stay away from Maria, knowing that she deserved better than what Natasha had to offer. But she’d soon stopped attempting to figure out why she couldn’t help being drawn to the brunette.

_Like moth to flame._

And Natasha went along with it, bickering with Maria, hell, even blatantly flirting with her at every opportunity she found, simply because it was impossible _not_ to. And she wasn’t blind; she could see the attraction was mutual.

Natasha almost lived for those moments when the seemingly strait-laced agent would actually respond to her saucy jabs with witty retorts of her own, the sparks between them inviting Natasha to grab what was right there, just within her reach.

But she would never give in to the temptation, though it was becoming almost physically painful to deny it. She’d continue to resolutely maintain the distance. The distance that would keep her safe. The distance that would keep _Maria_ safe…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Clint snapping his fingers in front of her face, grinning almost manically at her. Natasha felt like punching the glee off his face but settled on glaring at him. She rolled her eyes eventually and walked past him, making him laugh outright.

They approached the meeting room and Clint told her to go in as he needed to get someone else first. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully at Natasha before leaving and she shook her head at him as she walked in.

“Hey there, hot st–” 

The cheeky greeting died on Natasha’s lips when she took in Maria’s tired expression. The brunette looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Which, Natasha realised, was probably accurate, given that Fury had left her in-charge of a butt load missions.

She walked over to the opposite site of the large table in the centre of the room, waiting for Maria to finish studying the assortment of files she was leafing through. But she was too engrossed and only looked up when Clint barged in through the door minutes later with another agent, Agent Brady, at his heels.

Maria glanced towards Natasha and nodded ever so slightly, as if to specifically acknowledge her presence, and Natasha had to smother the girlish grin threatening to escape her lips. Maria quickly gathered some of the files in her hands before facing the three agents.

“Okay, folks, we’ve got a mission,” the taller woman started as she handed them out to each of them, “It’s top priority.”

Maria proceeded to explain everything S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about the Syndicate and her guess that their latest work involved findings about the Tesseract.

“I know it’s just a hunch, and that there’s a fair chance of us being wrong,” the brunette said, “But we still need to confirm or dispel it. I’ve cleared it with Fury.”

While Natasha found Maria’s vague explanation a little concerning, the gravity in her voice made it clear that she knew what she was doing. Maria then went over to the monitor and her fingers briefly flew over the screen before the walls of the room became translucent and hologram images of what looked like a laboratory tucked away in the mountains appeared in front of them.

“Details about the location are all in there,” Maria said, pointing to the files, “The mission is straightforward.”

“Barton and Romanoff, you both are to conduct a thorough inspection of the research facility,” the brunette explained, waving at the floating image in front of them, “Gather as much information as you can about the work going on.”

Maria then shifted her focus to the third agent, “Brady, you will commandeer the Quinjet that will escort the agents to the location and back here. Follow the coordinates in the file,” she ordered, and Brady nodded gravely, “You will stay on or near the aircraft at all times.”

“The laboratories are known to be heavily guarded at all times, so you will have to be smart and cautious,” Maria said after a bit, her blue, piercing eyes looking pointedly towards Natasha, “But, under no circumstances will you engage in any kind of altercation with the members of the Syndicate.”

The smirk that Natasha shot the lieutenant’s way was all but involuntary.

“Needless to say, your identities must not be compromised,” Maria said, “And once again, it is a _passive_ mission. Your sole job is to get the information. The Syndicate must not know that we’re onto to them,” she added emphatically, and Natasha knew all too well that the reminder was directed towards her specifically.

“There are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that have already been stationed around the region,” Maria said, indicating the spots on the map that appeared on one of the walls, “They’ve been deep undercover for a while and might know the inner workings of the Syndicate. They will be able to help you, if the need arises,” she said, as if she already knew that something was going to go down.

“I have kept them on standby, currently, because we don’t want to alert the Syndicate. But, as you can see, they are scattered pretty far apart, so they will take time to mobilise,” Maria said, pointing towards the map.

“And so, you will keep me informed regarding your status at all times, so that I know if and _when_ they need to be summoned,” the brunette added, and Natasha barely held back her chuckle.

After handling so many of her missions, Maria had learnt Natasha’s working style well enough to know that it would most likely be a _when_.

“You have exactly 4 days to collect all the intel you can. At this time on Friday, I want all of you in this room for the debriefing,” Maria commanded.

And Natasha couldn’t help marvel at how incredibly well the tone of authority suited her. Every word, every action of hers exuded power, and Natasha didn’t even fight the wave of desire she felt coursing through her.

Maria looked at the three agents for a bit, waiting to see if they had any doubts, and then shot them a curt nod, “Dismissed.”

“Wait, why would you send your best agents for a simple recon mission?” Natasha asked, making Maria’s head turn in her direction.

“Surely, you underestimate my abilities,” Natasha said, grinning slyly, “I’m pretty sure my skills can be better utilised _elsewhere,_ ” she all but purred with faux innocence, “Need I show you just how talented I am?”

She simply couldn’t resist the urge to irk the hard-headed agent. Maria straightened up and walked towards her, her calculating gaze never wavering away from Natasha.

“I assure you that won’t be required, _Agent Romanoff_ ,” the brunette replied, her lips twitching with amusement just for a millisecond.

That was the first time in the whole morning that Natasha saw even the briefest hint of relaxation on Maria’s face, and she considered it a small victory on its own.

The taller woman leaned down to get a little closer to her ear, “And I _do_ hope to see your talent.”

And Natasha almost shivered at how pleasantly husky her voice was. Maria pulled back just enough to look into Natasha’s eyes, holding her captive.

And though the ghost of her smirk was replaced by a clipped smile, Natasha could see the mirth in Maria’s blue orbs as she whispered, “ _Out in the field._ ”


	2. Gotta Go (Part 1)

## The Widow

It had been two days since the mission briefing, and they were holed up in the flimsy shack at the foot of the mountains. And Natasha was fucking bored.

She and Clint had divided the days into 6 hourly shifts to carry out their stakeouts. That way, they would make sure that every possible entrance and exit to the relatively large laboratory was covered.

At first, she and Clint had thought that gathering all the intel in 4 days would be nearly impossible, since it was just the two of them. But the files that Maria had given them had proved to be invaluable.

They were comprehensive analyses of the patterns of vehicles going in and out of the research facility, information on some of the lab personnel that satellite imaging had captured, and a lot more that had streamlined the mission.

Natasha had always found Maria’s obsession over details adorable, and she’d been unabashedly impressed. They’d been able to strategically plan out their moves and were making steady progress.

From their preliminary findings, it was clear that the research going on in the lab was related to some new form of alternative energy. They were able to find out some details by tracing the suppliers and material vendors that had been frequenting the labs.

What was left was for them to actually enter the premises to try and get their hands on the real work that was taking place.

But they were still waiting for the green signal from Maria, who was hesitant about them infiltrating the lab with no backup. Something about following protocol and all of that. _Always a stickler for rules, Agent Hill,_ Natasha scoffed internally _._

Every time they’d updated Maria on their findings, she had insisted that they continue with the peripheral recon until she mobilised the rest of the agents. And while it was every bit logical and reasonable, Natasha was growing impatient with every second.

As if on cue, she sensed footsteps approaching the shack, and her hand reflexively curled around the Glock beside her. She heard the familiar combination of raps on the door and as expected, Clint threw the door open, his face grim with disappointment.

He quickly washed up to get rid of the weariness and grime, and then took his seat on the cot opposite Natasha’s. Meanwhile, she had set up the encryption for the call to contact S.H.I.E.L.D.

“We’ve reached a dead-end,” Natasha snapped the moment the call was intercepted, “We have _got_ to break in and investigate.”

She heard a sigh of frustration at the other end and cursed herself for being unnecessarily rude. Their past 2 shifts had turned out to be completely fruitless and uneventful, and Natasha had to physically trample the urge to just raid the damn lab.

And Natasha knew Maria was just following the rules and looking out for them, but she couldn’t help getting irritated at their impasse. But she also knew that Maria must be over-worked to even be talking to them at this time, and the last thing she wanted was to add to her exhaustion.

“Agent Hill, I believe that we have already acquired all the intel we could externally,” Clint began gently, while glaring at Natasha at the same time.

“I don’t think there’s much we can do without invading the premises,” he said calmly, and Natasha shot him a grateful smile for taking over.

They heard the rapid clicking of keys at the other end before Maria spoke, “Fine, I’ve already sent out the orders to the rest of the agents. The team should reach you by tomorrow. I’ll send over their dossiers and you can devise a suitable plan. I’ll give an extra day for carrying out the infiltration.”

While Natasha was satisfied with the go-ahead, she didn’t like the delay that Maria was suggesting. Because Clint had noted stirrings around the lab, which probably meant that the researchers had sensed their presence. And so, they feared that they didn’t have too much time before the Syndicate fully found out that they were onto them.

She was going to point out that little detail, but Clint beat her to it, “Sure, Agent Hill, but I’m afraid we it might be too late by the time we mobilise the team and carve out a strategy.”

“I understand that, Agent Barton, but I can’t allow you to infiltrate the lab without backup,” Maria paused for a bit, almost as if she was choosing her next words carefully, “You’ll have to stick to the protocol. The stakes are simply too high for this to go wrong.”

Natasha couldn’t decipher the tone of the agent’s voice. There was a disturbing kind of hesitation in it that she had never known Maria to possess.

Was Mar– _Agent Hill_ doubting her capabilities? She was the Black Widow, for fuck’s sake. Sure, Natasha had returned pretty banged up from many of her recent missions, almost letting things go out of hand, but she’d still managed to get the job done.

She’d seen the disapproving looks that had been shot her way every time, but the thought of Hill not trusting her to finish the mission was an insult Natasha simply couldn’t endure.

“Look, Hill, I know you have a fetish for being by the book, but we’re fucking running out of time here,” Natasha spat out before she could even stop herself, making Clint’s eyes widen at her sudden outburst.

“We’ve already sent you the report about the mass movement around the lab,” she continued, ignoring Clint’s silent warnings, “The scientists probably know something is wrong. For all we know, they’re packing up as we speak. If we don’t go in now, they’re going to disappear, and we’ll never get another to chance to –”

“Believe me, Agent Romanoff, I know exactly what the Syndicate is capable of,” Hill cut her off, her tone firm and even, “But I still cannot authorise it. There’s almost a platoon of trained guards patrolling around the premises, and they’re all _armed._ ”

“Yes, but –”

“ _Moreover,”_ Hill continued, as if Natasha hadn’t even said anything, “We are in the process of developing an alternate strategy, based on some of the findings in your reports,” the brunette informed, her voice much too calm for Natasha’s liking, “We will switch over to that one if it gets too late for you to gather intel from the inside.”

_Alternate strategy?_ Natasha could feel rage bubbling within her. Hill had so little faith in her that she had already come up with a Plan B, without even bothering to wait till they failed. _Unacceptable._

“ _I assure you that won’t be required,_ Agent Hill,” Natasha bit out, repeating Hill’s words from just a few days ago.

She didn’t care that her anger and bitterness were tainting their precious moment as she went on, “Because we’re going to raid the lab _tomorrow_ , with or without backup. I’ll take full responsibility if the mission goes –”

“The _mission_ ,” Hill interrupted her, no longer hiding her own annoyance, “Is under _my_ command,” she declared definitively, making Natasha fall quiet.

“You will follow _my_ orders,” the brunette added, and if Natasha had been thinking straight, she would have heard the slight tremors in the voice of the otherwise cool and collected agent.

“You will wait till the backup team arrives, and you will keep me in the loop regarding all your plans before executing them,” Hill stated, her tone brooking no argument, “ _You. Will. Follow. Protocol_.”

Before Natasha could sputter out any scathing retort, Clint quickly jumped in and ended the call. He immediately typed out a message to Hill that they would keep her informed and discuss the rest later, and sent it over the secure network.

Natasha’s face was sporting a withering scowl and Clint almost backed away when he turned to face her. He knew her well enough to not disturb her when she was that pissed off.

“Well, fuck the protocol,” Natasha said eventually, her lips twisting in a snarl.

_And fuck Maria Hill._


	3. Gotta Go (Part 2)

## The Soldier

Maria was thoroughly pissed.

But it wasn’t the kind of rage that made her want to rip someone’s head off. It was the type of uncertainty and sheer helplessness that one felt when things were on the verge of spiralling out of control.

She increased the speed of the treadmill at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gym, flicking off the sheen of sweat across her forehead as she tried to push down the dread building within her.

That heated dispute with Natasha had left her completely unsettled. Hearing Natasha’s flagrant disdain towards following her orders, Maria had barely been able to maintain the cadence of her own voice, desperately trying to keep the concern out of it.

Not only was the stubborn woman going to jeopardise her own mission, but she was also going to end up ruining the other plan Maria had developed only hours before that call.

Right after Barton and Natasha had left for their mission, the analysts back at S.H.I.E.L.D. had made a startling discovery. Some of the past money transactions going into the account dedicated to the research facility had been recently frozen. They had dug in some more to find out that the patron for that lab had suddenly fallen out.

It could possibly explain the flurry of activities that Barton and Natasha had reported; the researchers might have been trying to move to another lab under the Syndicate, to try merging with the scientists there.

And then the idea had struck Maria to make S.H.I.E.L.D. fund their research. Or at least, make the Syndicate _think_ that S.H.I.E.L.D. was ready to provide the money. It would create an opportunity for them to gather the details of the ongoing research.

They would decide whether to really make the investment once they found out the nature of the work. It wouldn’t harm to acquire a new set of brains for the multitude of R&D projects that S.H.I.E.L.D. had running.

If Maria was being honest, she had been mad at herself at first for not thinking of this earlier. They could have done things much differently; they could’ve avoided the mission too, possibly. But she had swallowed down her frustration and simply instructed the tacticians under her to set up a shell company to engage with the Syndicate.

Maria had thought of informing Barton and Natasha about the new strategy, but then realised that her spin-off idea still had the chances of not panning out as expected. That was the reason she had insisted on delaying the infiltration; she would wait to see if her plan worked and only then tell the agents to abort their mission.

But Maria regretted not telling them when she heard Natasha seethe and simmer with every word during their argument.

She had received the message from Barton right after the call, but it hadn’t done anything to assuage her concern. She knew that disobedience was going to inevitably follow, and the thought worried her beyond anything.

Maria continued to increase the pace, pounding down on the treadmill, ignoring the throbbing it was causing in her calves.

Only she and some of her tacticians were awake on the Helicarrier at this time, and so the gym was deserted. And Maria was glad for the solitude; she couldn’t have herself losing it in front of her subordinates. Her fingers were inching towards the console in front of her yet again when she spotted one of the agents scamper into the gym with a tablet in his hands.

Maria slid off the treadmill and grabbed a towel from her bag as she approached him, “Yes, Agent Miller, what is it?”

“We have an issue, Agent,” Miller began, and Maria already felt her exasperation rising.

“The communication link between us and Agents Barton and Romanoff has just gone blank,” he told her, showing some graphs on his tablet.

“What? How’s that possible?” Maria retorted, annoyed at the new problem, “Did you try recalibrating the satellite network?”

“Yes, we did that, even though it was completely fine to begin with,” Miller explained, his own voice ringing with tiredness, “We even reloaded some of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s systems, in the remote chance that it was a technical glitch. But it looks like there isn’t any problem at our end.”

Maria’s eyebrows furrowed at that. This wasn’t going to end well.

“It could be because of stray transmission traffic at their location, which might be present due to the nature of the research going on there,” Miller said, swiping on his tablet to reveal readings of the signals captured by a S.H.I.E.L.D. satellite in the area around Barton and Natasha’s position.

“It could be a cyber-attack on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s firewalls, but I seriously doubt that, given our multi-layered security systems,” he added.

Maria felt herself nodding along. S.H.I.E.L.D. had insanely efficient measures to fend off hackers, and the likelihood of someone breaking in was negligible.

“And then there’s a third possibility…” Miller trailed off, his voice suddenly going quiet. Like he was afraid of what he was going to say next.

“Spit it out, Agent,” Maria snapped at him, and instantly regretted it as she saw Miller almost flinch away. She softened her features and spoke again, “Tell me what it is, Miller. We don’t have time for this.”

Miller exhaled audibly before continuing, “It could’ve done by Agents Barton and Romanoff, themselves. It seems like the most plausible explanation, since our systems are never known to experience these kinds of interruptions.”

Maria found herself almost reeling in confusion. She really couldn’t guess whether it was a deliberate action out of sheer defiance, or if something had genuinely gone wrong. She didn’t want to believe it, but she knew how obstinate Natasha could be.

_Fucking hell, Romanoff._

* * *

The next thing she knew, Maria found herself on a Quinjet with a squad of four other agents, barking instructions to her co-pilot who merely followed her lead wordlessly.

Even as she briefed the agents on the different scenarios of attack or extraction (depending on the situation Natasha and Barton were in), Maria internally hoped that they wouldn’t find themselves in one. All she wanted was for them to get there in time to stop Natasha from doing something stupid.

There was a voice in her mind that kept trying to remind her that she was being impulsive. That she should trust Barton and Natasha to get out of any fucked-up situation they’d put themselves in.

But there was a more dominant, potent part of her that believed that she was still a soldier, first and foremost. And she couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ – sit by idly while her team walked into their deaths, if there was even the slightest chance of it happening. Not when she could do something about it.

Moreover, from her time working at S.H.I.E.L.D., Maria had come to realise that cleaning up her agents’ shit was kind of an unwritten part of her job description. And so, she would come through, like she always had.

No matter how adamant and unreasonable her agents were being, she would still have their backs. Like she always had.


	4. Catch and Release

## The Soldier

It was already afternoon when they finally reached there, and Maria found herself squinting her eyes to avoid the sunlight as they weaved through the valleys in the S.H.I.E.L.D. issued jeep.

Right after entering the small village where Natasha and Barton were stationed, Maria ordered her squad to get suited up in their Kevlars.

 _Just in case we’re gate-crashing a gun fight_.

She had just finished tightening the final strap of her vest when the deafening sound of explosives going off somewhere in the vicinity made their car lurch to a stop.

Suddenly all alert, Maria craned her neck and scanned the surroundings. She spotted the source in no time: a tiny cottage at the end of the road.

The shack Natasha and Barton were supposed to be in.

_Fuck._

All the agents jumped out of the car, their guns already out of their holsters as they sprinted towards the sound. The explosion was contained, but it still made the neighbouring civilians scamper out of their homes in alarm. She motioned for the agents to go and control the small crowd that was gathering while she continued running in the direction of the blazing shack.

Maria was still around 50 yards away from the it when her eye caught the unmistakable flash of red whipping away from them, towards the mountains, and the pounding in her heart reduced just a bit. She staggered to a halt, letting some of the manic energy drain away as she caught her breath.

As if on cue, Miller’s voice rang through the comms once again, “Agent Hill, I’ve just got a reply from the Syndicate. They’re interested in our offer. They want to meet today, at around, uh…” he paused, and Maria heard a muffled sound of another agent at the other end, “Right now.”

Maria growled frustratedly. _Of course, they want to meet right now._

She merely huffed out her acceptance and cursed her fate. As much as she wanted to go behind Natasha and make sure she was safe, Maria knew she couldn’t. She had to be at that meeting. It was a part of the mission now and she couldn’t abandon it. She wouldn’t forgive herself is she did.

 _Natasha_ wouldn’t forgive her if she did.

“Agent Davis, I need you with me,” Maria barked, once her team had caught up with her, motioning to the agent a few steps away from her. The smaller woman, Agent Davis, quickly moved over behind Maria.

“The rest of you,” Maria said, facing the remaining squad, “Go after Agent Romanoff. She has probably already identified the cause of the explosion. Find her and help her take it down.”

“You will follow her orders in my absence,” she commanded, and the rest of them nodded grimly and one of the agents ran back to get the car.

“And, team,” Maria stopped them before they took off, “Be safe and be smart. I need you back in one piece. _All_ of you.”

With that, Maria turned around and dashed off in the opposite direction, right after making sure Davis was following her. She tried to curb her panic as she heard some more blasts behind her while they continued running, wondering just what mess Natasha had brought upon herself.

Maria simply increased her pace, clenching her jaw almost too painfully as she sprinted away, praying that the spy didn’t get herself killed.

_The woman is going to be the death of me._


	5. Nowhere to Hide

## The Widow

Natasha gripped her gun tighter in her hand as she sprinted past the bushes and foliage from trees.

Right after the explosions, she had spotted a scrawny man behind the shack, and she’d been chasing him. And somewhere down the pursuit, she had ended up in the forest at the base of the mountains.

Almost immediately, phantom snipers had started shooting at her and Natasha had found herself running to avoid being hit by the silenced bullets. She understood that the man had obviously led her right into the trap.

Another bullet whizzed somewhere behind her, embedding itself in the trunk of a tree, but Natasha’s step barely faltered. She angled herself around just a little bit and fired a few stray shots in the direction that the bullet had come from.

But she realised it was futile, and she cursed herself for squandering precious bullets. Natasha turned back around and quickened her speed. While she knew that the people shooting at her were obviously guerrillas who weren’t really well trained, she also realised that she was hopelessly outnumbered.

Barton was still somewhere near the lab, since they had decided to stick to their shifts once Natasha had calmed down and come to her senses after that call with Hill. And she had no way to contact him right now, because their comms line was down.

There was literally nothing she could do but run.

Of course, there was also the detail that she had no clue _where_ she was even running towards. For all she knew, she was heading for yet another ambush.

And that tiny sliver of uncertainty was enough to make her lose focus, and her leg caught on a vine in her way. Before she knew it, Natasha was all but crashing onto the muddy ground, her hands flying out in front of her to bear the brunt of the impact.

Even as she fell, Natasha rolled herself and scrambled to make sure she landed behind a thick tree, momentarily shielded from the shower of bullets. It was a sheer miracle that the only thing they had managed to do was graze her arm. Pressing her right hand against the wound, Natasha caught her breath for a couple of seconds.

She couldn’t fully grasp what was even happening. She had no idea why she was being attacked, given that, _for once_ , she had managed to not piss off any of the adversaries. They couldn’t possibly know that S.H.I.E.L.D. was onto them; she and Barton had been extremely cautious to ensure that.

And even then, from her knowledge about the Syndicate, they only ever defended themselves and their work; they were never known to initiate the offensive. Of course, Natasha had no time to get caught up in all of that; she knew she had to be on the move.

As she stood up, a sharp stab of pain shot up her right leg and Natasha doubled over, trying to stifle her cry against her good shoulder. She looked down to find her ankle red and swollen, and she cursed her luck. She felt the spot tentatively, grimacing as the sensitive skin made tingles of pain radiate through her leg, but she was relieved that at least it wasn’t broken.

Steadying herself against the tree, Natasha noticed that the firing had suddenly stopped. She peaked over just for a millisecond to see a group of armed men walking purposefully in her direction. They obviously knew where she was hiding, and they were coming for her.

Natasha’s gun was long gone, lost in the bushes during her fall, and she couldn’t even run now. And, in the rush of avoiding getting incinerated and chasing the man, she hadn’t found the time to grab the knives she usually kept holstered against her leg.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

_This is it_ , Natasha realised. She cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders to loosen the tense muscles, ignoring the ache in her bleeding arm. She knew that there was a good chance that it was going to be a one-sided battle. They had guns, and she had… a sprained ankle.

But she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to give it her best.

The sounds of their footsteps got louder, their speech becoming clearer as they advanced, and Natasha forced herself to relax. She’d been in worse fights before, and being out of weapons had never stopped her. _Let’s just hope their combat skills are as poor as their marksmanship._

Natasha took a final breath, long and deep, and assumed her fighting stance, waiting for the muzzle of a gun to appear in front of her face.

* * *

It never came.

Instead, Natasha heard gunshots being rapidly fired for a good 7 seconds and then, the sound of bodies falling to the ground. She could feel her pulse in her ear and forced herself to wait before getting out of her hiding spot.

“Agent Romanoff?” Natasha heard a familiar male voice call out, “It’s Agent Harris, S.H.I.E.L.D. operative number 7-0-1-6-J. You may show yourself; we’ve eliminated the gunmen.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Natasha slowly limped away from the tree and saw three agents standing over the bodies of the snipers. She had no idea what they were even doing here but she couldn’t bring herself to care at that point.

The agent in the centre, Harris, rushed forward to steady Natasha as she stumbled over some rocks. Normally, she would have shot him a death glare for even trying to help her, but considering that he had just saved her ass, she gritted her teeth and took his hand.

“These are Agents Perez and Jones,” he told her, and Natasha nodded at the men, recognising them from their training sessions back at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Just as she approached them, Perez handed her a gun and the four of them began walking away as briskly as they could with Natasha’s ankle. They were all alert as they weaved through the vegetation, their eyes darting around to make sure there weren’t any more threats.

They had crossed a considerable distance without any surprise attacks when Natasha finally spoke up, “So, care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Harris merely chuckled, apparently acquainted with her bluntness, “Agent Hill sent us here as backup.”

“You’re not in the dossiers she sent, though,” Natasha replied instantly, “And you weren’t supposed to arrive until today evening.”

“Yeah, that was the Beta team that Agent Hill sent out yesterday. Like you said, they will be joining us later today,” Harris explained, “We’re the Alpha team. We were flown down here as the primary backup immediately after your comms died out.”

Natasha processed that information. She realised that their comms must have been down for quite some time. After speaking with ( _yelling at_ ) Hill last night, she hadn’t bothered contacting her again and so, she had only noticed it a few minutes before the first blast that took down the shack.

But of course, Hill had still been looking out for them, despite the shit Natasha had given her.

“How did you even find me?” she asked, ignoring the prickle of guilt within her.

“We were there when the explosions occurred,” Harris told her, “But before we could reach you, you’d already run off behind some guy. Once we entered the forest, we just followed the sounds of your gunshots.”

Natasha nodded appreciatively towards the agents. They continued walking in silence and she mused to herself at the thought that those bullets hadn’t gone to waste after all.

* * *

Finally finding their way out of the wilderness, they found themselves back in the village.

Natasha noticed the jeep parked haphazardly on the side of the road and followed the agents as they headed towards it. Jones jogged ahead to retrieve a basic first aid kit from the car by the time Natasha got seated into it. He bandaged up her ankle and her wounded arm, while Perez tossed her a Kevlar and an earpiece.

“Well, Agent Romanoff,” Harris began, after a bit, “We have orders to follow your lead. You’re in charge of the op now.”

It was right then that Natasha realised that there were still not done with the mission.

Given that their shack had been targeted intentionally, she wondered if Barton had gotten caught in an attack too. Pushing down the panic flooding her briefly, she motioned for Perez to start the car, telling him to drive towards the lab.

She turned to face the other agents, “So, since Hill sent you all here, did she possibly tell you who the threat was?”

“We patted down the assailants earlier, but, as expected, they didn’t have anything on them,” Jones replied.

“But I don’t understand,” the agent said, looking genuinely confused, “Weren’t those guys sent by the Syndicate?”

“Seems unlikely,” Natasha answered, furrowing her eyebrows as she tried to analyse the situation, “I mean, it would be completely out of character. The Syndicate are a group of scientists. Sure, they operate in the shadows and are very protective about their research, but at the end of the day, they’re just a bunch of super insecure nerds.”

Harris and Jones kept staring at her, waiting for her to make her point. Natasha paused for a bit before resuming.

“You’ve read their files, Agents,” she deadpanned, “They never attack first. They only defend what’s theirs,” she added, and saw the understanding dawn upon the agents.

“But this,” Natasha continued, waving in the air with her good hand for emphasis, “This was a deliberate, almost surgical strike.”

“They somehow knew were here and they targeted us,” she went on, “You notice how only mine and Barton’s communication link has been cut off? It’s not a general network problem. Ours are the _only_ frequencies that have been compromised.”

The agents nodded grimly, letting Natasha’s explanation sink in.

“So, you think it was someone else?” Jones asked.

Natasha contemplated that for a while and then responded, “No, that couldn’t be it. We were extremely careful. Plus, the operation was strictly non-combative, and we haven’t had any kind of confrontation with anybody. If someone could have even known about the mission, it should’ve been the Syndicate.”

“But if it’s the Syndicate, shouldn’t they have fled from here first? That’s their pattern, right?” Harris spoke this time, making Natasha’s head turn in his direction, “Why risk getting exposed by initiating attack?”

“They quite possibly are,” Natasha replied, “That’s what I told Hill yesterday,” she said, some of the lingering frustration creeping back into in her tone, “I’d told her it was too late, but she hadn’t sanctioned an –”

The jeep abruptly jerked to a halt, effectively ending the conversation, and all three agents had their guns trained outside the windows out of sheer reflex.

“Guys,” Perez spoke, pointing to a figure jogging towards them, “I think that’s Agent Barton.”


	6. Nowhere to Run

## The Soldier

Maria continued to follow the directions Miller was relaying over the comms, occasionally glancing behind to make sure Davis was with her.

Despite her heart screaming at her to not do it, she had told Miller to cut off her communication with the rest of the team, just till she was done with the meeting. She didn’t want any distractions.

The road was basically a thin strip of land in the forest – the only region that wasn’t covered with grass and vegetation – and was surrounded by tall trees and dense bushes. Without Miller’s guidance, they could be wandering in there forever and no one would find them.

As they continued to walk, Maria couldn’t help but notice that the coordinates of the meeting location were quite far from the village they’d been in, and almost in the opposite direction of the actual lab. That detail struck Maria as odd, but she decided to let it slide.

_Maybe they don’t want to show all their cards until they’ve finalised the sponsor._

Noticing that Davis was unnaturally quiet, she looked back, beckoning her over to catch up. The agent quickly matched Maria’s pace, and she shot her a small smile.

Davis was still somewhat a newbie; this was just her first mission out of the country, third overall. While the nervousness was evident on her face, Maria was able to read the excitement in the shorter woman’s eyes.

And Maria couldn’t help being impressed. She knew Davis had promise; she could see her thriving at S.H.I.E.L.D. She was everything Maria wanted in a soldier. She was ambitious, but thoughtful at the same time. Smart, yet obedient.

Unlike a _certain_ agent who was hell bent on tossing each plan Maria made right out the window.

Miller chose that exact moment to interrupt her thoughts, “Uh, Agent Hill…?”

Coming out of her daze, Maria replied, “Yeah, what is it, Miller?”

“Sorry I didn’t inform you earlier, but I think there’s a group of people heading towards you,” Miller said, his voice sounding nervous, “I thought it was just a random crowd of locals, but it doesn’t seem so, given the speed at which they are advancing.”

“What?” Maria snapped, her senses fully alert, “How far are they right now?”

“They’re less than a quarter of a mile away, in front of you,” Miller answered, “They can’t see you yet; you’re hidden by the vegetation.”

“Okay, okay,” Maria said, trying not to panic just yet, “Are they armed?”

“Uh, I can’t say for sure, sorry,” he replied, and Maria had to bite back the urge to snap at him again, “The foliage makes it hard to make out, even from the satellite images.”

“Okay, how many can you count?”

“Around 20 of them.”

_Fuck._

Maria stopped in her tracks to formulate a plan. There was no way to run but backwards, and even then, she wasn’t sure they could outrun the mob.

She quickly shifted herself and Davis behind a large thicket of bushes to her right, crouching down just in time as the group of men came into vision. From the characteristic glint of the Berettas hanging by their holsters, Maria realised that they were, indeed, armed.

_Just perfect._

“Do you think you just walk right past them, pretending everything was just normal?” Miller asked, trying to be helpful to make up for his mistake.

Maria was going to reply when Davis gripped her arm, “I don’t think that would work, Agent.”

“Even if we get rid of our gear, we’re still in our tac suits,” the agent pointed out, “Moreover, we haven’t come across anyone else all this while. They obviously know we’re the only ones coming this way.”

Maria considered her argument and realised it made sense. She could call for backup, stall the attackers somehow until they arrive, “Okay, what’s the status of the Alpha team? Have they managed to find Romanoff?”

“The last I checked; they had followed her into the forest by the foot of the mountains,” Miller answered, “She was being pursued by a group of snipers.”

Maria let the new information sink in. Her frustration was rising almost exponentially by then. She wasn’t particularly worried about Natasha, weirdly enough; she knew the spy was more than capable of fending off the attack. Plus, she’d sent agents to her aid.

Her legs were killing her from squatting for so long, but she forced herself to ignore it and think straight. She couldn’t understand what was happening. This didn’t seem like a retaliation. They were being actively sought out.

Even assuming Natasha and Barton _had_ managed to piss off people, an attack this aggressive just didn’t fit the pattern of the Syndicate. It reeked of all kinds of bad and Maria wondered if there was a bigger game at play.

“Do you want me to send over the Alpha team to your location?” Miller’s voice rang in her ear.

“No, don’t tell them about this yet. They’d never make it here in time anyway,” Maria answered, the gears in her mind turning as a new plan formed itself, “I think I’ve got an idea. I need you to cut off our comms for a while. About half-an-hour to 45 minutes. I don’t want any distractions.”

With that, she turned off her earpiece and stuffed it in her pocket, not waiting for Miller’s reply. She risked a glance above the bush and saw that the men were less than 100 yards away.

She turned to face Davis as she spoke in a low voice, “Okay, there’s no way we’re going to win if there’s a fight. We’re outnumbered and they’re armed.”

Davis nodded but didn’t respond, her gaze darting towards the group. Maria continued, once she was sure she had her attention, “We can stay behind bushes and hope that they walk by without noticing us. But given our fucked-up luck so far, I highly doubt that’s going to happen.”

Davis nodded yet again, the apprehension in her eyes growing with every word Maria spoke.

Maria grabbed Davis by her shoulder so that she heard the next part right, “So, if we are caught, I need you to run.”

Davis’ eyes widened at that, and she shook her head in vehemence, “No, Agent, I can’t –”

“Here me out first, Agent,” Maria growled as quietly as she could, “It’s not going to do anyone any good if we both end up dead here.”

Davis’ head was still bobbing in protest, but Maria pressed on, “If one of us is able to get away, they can bring help.”

Maria knew that she had gotten through to Davis, and she continued, “But we need to be smart here. The mission has long gone FUBAR, but this is a level of messed up where we don’t even know _who’s_ the threat or _why_.”

“If there’s a confrontation right now, I might be able to talk those guys into revealing some of the information,” Maria said, raising her eyebrows emphatically, “No matter how little of it they might actually have.”

Davis looked at Maria, her jaw visibly clenching at the utter helplessness of their situation.

Maria took a deep, shaky breath before speaking again, “So, when the fight begins, I need you to choose the right moment and run.”

“How will I know when that would be?” Davis asks, her voice hoarse, but determined.

“You’re a sharp agent, Davis,” Maria replied, giving her a grim smile, “You’ll know.”

Davis stared at her for a few seconds before tears of indignation sprang to her eyes, “No, no! This is so _wrong_ , I –”

“It’s the only way we can even _try_ to salvage the op,” Maria cut her off.

Davis tried to shake herself out of her hold, “But I can’t _abandon_ you –”

“Yes, you can, and you _will,_ ” Maria commanded, making Davis’ movements freeze, “That’s an _order._ ”


	7. Crossroads

## The Widow

Natasha motioned for the agents to lower their guns as they waited for Clint to come up to the car. She quickly scanned him for any injuries while he settled into the jeep beside her.

“Clocking off early, are we, Barton?” Natasha said, once she was satisfied that he was fine, “Your shift wasn’t supposed to end till the next 2 hours.”

Clint merely let out a gruff chuckle, well aware of her tendency to be sarcastic whenever she was attempting to mask her concern. If he was surprised at the presence of the other agents, he didn’t voice it.

He regarded the men with a smile – he obviously knew them well at S.H.I.E.L.D. – and turned to face Natasha, “Yeah, well, I got bored.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It means that I got sick of staring at a completely sealed laboratory for 4 hours straight, and so I bailed,” Clint replied, his tone just serious enough to highlight the detail.

“But I see we have new members to join our little slumber party,” he added, trying ease the weight off the words as he saw Natasha get increasingly irritated, “And just like that, things have gotten interesting.”

“I fucking knew it,” Natasha snapped, not bothering to hide her annoyance, “I knew they were going to run. Those little –”

“Yeah, here’s the catch,” Clint interrupted her, “Even though there was no movement whatsoever around the premises – like, straight-up _nothing –_ I know for a fact that there are people inside the lab,” he said, in all seriousness, “I know something is going on in there.”

“How could you possibly be so sure about that?” Harris asked, and Natasha knew the reply he was going to get.

“Well, they don’t call me Hawkeye for no reason,” Clint said cockily, following through with her prediction, earning an eye-roll from her.

He quickly sobered down and added, “There’s still the army guarding the place. They’re trying to be inconspicuous, but it ain’t working out too well for them,” he said, and Natasha almost groaned inwardly at that, “Apart from that, there isn’t any other sign of life there.”

Natasha then went on to explain the attacks on her and how the team from S.H.I.E.L.D. had managed to suppress them. There was a brief stretch of silence where everyone tried to make sense of all the new information.

They had parked the car for a while now, not sure where exactly to go, and Natasha used the silence to mull over the latest details from Clint. The mission was just getting weirder by the minute.

“I don’t get it,” Perez spoke eventually, his eyes widening as if he just realised something, “Why would they make us think they’ve vanished _one day_ after agreeing to have the negotiations with us?”

Harris and Jones nodded contemplatively, apparently understanding what Perez was referring to, but Natasha and Clint looked at him with baffled expressions.

“What are you talking about?” Clint asked, genuinely confused.

“Oh, that’s right. You guys don’t know about the new plan,” Jones took over, “Well, after you were sent here, we discovered some strange findings back at S.H.I.E.L.D. Long story short, the Syndicate needed a sponsor.”

“So, Agent Hill came up with a plan to ‘strike a deal’ with the Syndicate, offering to throw in some money for their research here,” Jones explained, “It would create the perfect excuse for gathering information about the actual nature of the work.”

_Oh. The alternate strategy._

It was simple and ingenious, Natasha realised, but also dubious. She knew how stringent and paranoid the Syndicate was when it came to their patrons. She somewhat understood why Hill hadn’t told her.

“In fact,” Jones continued, “They should be having the meeting right now. We’d split up around 2 hours ago and –”

“Wait, ‘split up?’” Natasha asked, her mind reeling at the words, “Are you telling me that Hill is _here?_ ”

“Well, yeah, she’s the one initially heading the Alpha team,” Jones replied, as if it was obvious, “We’d reached your shack when the explosions started going off. Right then, one of the agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ told us that our request to the Syndicate had gotten pushed through, and they wanted to meet right now. Agent Hill told us to go after you, and she went off with Agent Davis herself.”

Natasha was at a complete loss for words. She didn’t know whether to be mad at Hill for her decision to just up and fly down here so hastily, or to be touched by the fact she’d come for her.

_For the team,_ Natasha reminded herself _. For the mission._ Not for Natasha _._ She couldn’t fathom why Hill would do that after all that had gone down in their last conversation.

(But somewhere, deep down in her heart, there was a part of her that _wanted_ to believe that Hill had come for her.)

Her musing was interrupted by a frantic knock on the jeep’s window.

Natasha’s head whipped in the direction to find a haggard and defeated looking woman that didn’t nearly resemble the enthusiastic agent that had become Hill’s pet back at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Natasha noticed Jones’ forehead crease as he quickly helped Davis into the car, his eyes flickering with concern as he took in the gash across the woman’s cheek. She could read the troubled look on Davis’ face as she let Jones to fuss over her while she caught her breath.

The moment she had calmed down, Davis brushed him off and turned to face Natasha, “Agent Romanoff, we’ve got some… _new developments._ ”

She struggled with the words, as if they pained her in some way. And there were so many questions on Natasha’s mind, but she needed to know first.

“Davis, you were supposed to be with Hill,” she said, willing her voice to stay steady, “Where is she?”

Davis scrunched her eyes close and Natasha could almost hear her gnashing her teeth. Everything about her reaction was making Natasha grow more and more nervous, and she wished the woman would answer her already.

“We were ambushed,” Davis finally spoke, opening her eyes, her voice low and angry, “Agent Hill told me – _ordered_ me _–_ to leave,” she spat out, her body vibrating with guilt, “Told me to find you and tell you to finish the mission.”

As much as Natasha had been intuitively prepared for bad news, hearing Davis actually confirm it still left her feeling like the ground under her had been slipped. Cold fear settled in the pit of her stomach and her insides churned with apprehension.

“What happened to her, Davis?” Natasha choked out, “Is she –”

“She’s been taken,” Davis said, her usually sunny face sporting a permanent scowl, “I managed to escape; Agent Hill made sure of that,” she paused, letting out a strangled sound, “She… she wasn’t in a great shape, but that last I saw her, she was alive.”

It didn’t do much to reduce her panic, but Natasha felt just a tiny bit hopeful. _At least she’s alive._ She kept repeating it in her mind like a mantra, attempting to gather herself. She couldn’t give up on the team – on _Maria –_ right now. She had a mission to finish.

She glanced over to Clint, her sole source of support at that point, and saw his face etched with worry. He shot her a bleak smile and rubbed her good arm. Natasha quickly gripped his hand, grateful for his quiet comfort. She didn’t trust herself with words and silently implored Clint to take over.

Clint nodded gently, getting the hint as he spoke, “What did she mean when she said, ‘finish the mission?’”

“Well, Agent Hill was able to get some information out of the people who attacked us,” Davis replied, her voice shaky and tired, “They were all low-level henchmen, so we only managed to grasp vague details.”

“And I couldn’t wait there long enough to get specific names or anything, but here’s what I know,” Davis said, and everyone fixed their attention on the woman, “All the attacks on us until now are not isolated; there’s a single entity behind them. And whoever is responsible for them has either been a part of the Syndicate in the past, or is –”

“A rogue member,” Natasha interrupted her, the realisation making her eyes go wide.

“That could explain how they managed to pull off those attacks so discreetly,” Clint said, his voice thoughtful, “We never noticed anything out of the ordinary till now simply because it was being done by a single insider all along. They’ve been targeting both, us and the Syndicate, itself.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Davis confirmed with a nod, “The Syndicate itself has been compromised.”

“So, then what does Hill want us to do?” Natasha asked, her tone edging towards desperate.

“Yeah, that,” Davis began, her voice tense and urgent, “Before stuff went really south, one of the guys revealed that there’s going to be a ‘party at the lab,’ which, I can only assume, means that –”

“The scientists have been taken hostage,” Clint completed the sentence.

That had to be it, based on what Davis was saying and on what he had noted earlier around the lab.

“We’ve got a whole new focus for the operation now,” Davis finished with a nod, her tone suddenly determined, like she didn’t want to disappoint her superior officer.

The explanation and answers that Davis provided all but threw Natasha into a conundrum. She almost couldn’t help the wry chuckle at the fucked-up situation. This was a twisted catch-22 that she could never get out of guilt-free.

She looked at the rest of the group and realised that they were all staring at her, their eyes bearing the same question: save their team member or complete the mission, as ordered by said team member.

There was no way they could do both, Natasha knew that very well. Their squad wasn’t large enough for them to delegate and make it work. She could try (she knew she _would_ try), but there was a very little chance that they would succeed at accomplishing both. They had to make a choice.

_She_ had to make a choice.

But Natasha knew Agent Maria Hill. She knew Hill’s principles and she knew what Hill would have done, if she were in her place. And so, the answer, no matter just how much it grated her soul, was clear as water.

The mission _always_ came first.

Natasha had to physically struggle to keep the scream of helplessness from escaping her lips. The only semblance of respite came from the fact that Maria would never blame her for this. Natasha just _knew_ that.

She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders, slipping into the mask that she needed to be in right now. When she opened them again, her green orbs were everything one would want those of a leader to be.

Cold. Calculating. Clear.

The team immediately straightened up, awaiting the command, submitting to her just like everyone she’d come across all her life had.

The Black Widow was back in business.


	8. The Good, The Bad and The Insane

## The Soldier

The distant sound of an animal howling somewhere jerked Maria awake.

It had been quite a while since the sun had set, and she surveyed her surroundings as her eyes got adjusted to the dim lighting.

She was in a large, dingy room barely illuminated by a few halogen bulbs, probably in the basement of some building, given the heaviness in the air. There was a broken window somewhere towards her left that did nothing to brighten the place.

She turned her body slightly to get a better view, and gasped at the wave of pain that ran through her. It was only then that Maria realised that her hands were tied above her, and her feet were just barely touching the ground.

And just like that, the earlier events of the day came crashing down on her.

She remembered the attack that had happened a few hours ago, that had landed her in this place. Maria had put up a pretty impressive fight, even managing to wrangle information from her assailants. But they had eventually seen through her toying and subdued her. Painfully.

After a while, she had surrendered and allowed herself to be taken, knowing that it wasn’t worth the struggle. The outcome was inevitable. The further she dragged on the fight, the more injured she was going to get herself.

Apart from the countless bruises and scrapes, she’d gotten at least 2 broken ribs and a nasty cut right beside her eyebrow. Maria could feel the dried blood at the side of her face as she twitched her parched lips.

Her head wasn’t exactly pounding; it just felt heavy, which meant that they hadn’t knocked her out. She’d probably just fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion and the overexertion from the past week. Maria forced herself to stay awake, the pain from all her injuries helping her do that, and tried to think straight.

In the middle of the chaos of the fight, she had seen two of the attackers notice Davis running off and follow her. But between dodging multiple blows, she hadn’t been able to do much other than somehow firing shots in the arbitrary direction. Maria hoped Davis had managed to reach Natasha and the rest of the team and relay the new details.

Otherwise, this was all just going to be a tragic fuck-up.

Maria couldn’t help but be amazed at just how quickly a seemingly simple mission had gone FUBAR. And she was pissed at herself for not seeing it coming. She should have been suspicious when the Syndicate decided to agree to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s offer so promptly, without even making too many inquiries. She should’ve realised that something was wrong right then.

But she hadn’t. And so, here she was, captured in some godforsaken basement, and her team was out there, literally in the wild, with no directions from her whatsoever. And, to top it all off, she still didn’t know exactly _who_ was behind it all, in spite of everything that had gone down till now.

_Fury’s going to be fucking furious._

Maria let out a wry chuckle at that thought, ignoring the flair of agony that followed it almost immediately. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay optimistic. She had assembled a great team and she had to trust them to make the right call.

And despite how pissed off she was at Natasha, Maria knew that she was the best damn agent, and she would be able to connect the dots to complete the mission…

Right then, the door was thrown open, the sound startling Maria out of her thoughts, and a small group of men barged into the room.

Maria couldn’t help but scoff at just how clichéd it all was as she assessed them. There were five standard muscle guys flanking the taller man in the centre, who was obviously the mastermind behind all the attacks.

_Finally._

“Well, well, looks like you’ve decided to wake up.”

Maria struggled to make out his features in the dark. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t remember whose it was.

“We meet again,” the man said, stepping right under the light, revealing his face, “ _Agent Hill._ ”

Maria’s eyes widened as she recognised the man. Dr Edgar Kowalski was a secret legend in the world of atomic and quantum physics; his work gathering criticism and acclaim alike from academia. He had been a stellar member of the Syndicate for the longest time.

Maria had encountered the scientist a couple of years ago, when she’d led the op that had exposed –and effectively ended – his controversial research. The op that Fury had reamed her out for.

The man himself had absconded and gone off the grid at that time. But since nothing had popped up on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar, they hadn’t tried to pursue him hard enough. Maria was definitely regretting that decision now as she looked at his menacing expression.

“Kowalski,” she spat out, “Seems you haven’t learnt anything since our last meeting. Have any more dangerous, unstable experiments running that we need to save the surrounding cities from?”

Kowalski’s eyes briefly flashed with rage, and Maria smirked at him. She knew that pushing his buttons wouldn’t do her any good at all, but she had to make it clear the she wasn’t going to grovel at his feet. But the anger left him just as soon as it had come.

“Testing weaponry powered by nuclear energy in a safe and controlled environment can hardly be termed as ‘dangerous _,_ ’ Agent,” Kowalski replied coolly.

Maria scoffed at that, “It is when it’s capable of pulverising the neighbouring areas, exposing the people to radiation, and condemning the population for generations of afflictions.”

One of the men beside him took a threatening step forward and Maria pursed her lips, awaiting whatever blow she was going to get from the hockey stick in his hands. But Kowalski raised his hand calmly, motioning the guy to back down.

He merely smiled at Maria and continued, “Besides, Agent, you and your little team are in no position to ‘save’ anybody,” he said, his lips turning into a sneer, “Not even yourselves.”

Maria’s breathe hitched at the words, and she felt her insides roil with fear at what he might have done to them.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she sputtered out, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she was feeling, “My agents know that you’re holding the scientists captive, back at the lab. They’re going to get them out.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I know about the sidekick of yours that managed to get away,” Kowalski replied, his demeanour unaffected by Maria’s outburst, “I know they’ll be heading for the hostages. I made the guess when _no one_ came to rescue you all this while.”

Maria tried to keep herself level-headed. He was just trying to get under her skin, and she wouldn’t let him do that.

She raised her head defiantly as she spoke, “Exactly, and they’re all exceptional agents. They _will_ complete the mission.”

“Yes, but they would be walking right into my trap,” Kowalski said, his tone condescending, “The place is a fortress. I have so many layers of ex-military officers – the most ruthless and vengeful of them – guarding the premises, you’ll need a whole battalion to just enter.”

_Oh. That’s it. They clearly haven’t seen the Black Widow work._

Maria was rather amazed at how she sure she was about the same fact that got her insanely worried just a day ago. _Of course, Natasha would be able to handle it._

Maria let herself relax internally, but made sure that she didn’t look overconfident. She wanted to maintain Kowalski’s delusions that his was an infallible move.

Maria schooled her features, “Why are you doing this, Kowalski? Why are you involving those scientists into this? If it’s me you want then you already have me.”

Kowalski simply chuckled at that, “You give yourself far too much importance, Agent,” he growled, “You weren’t exactly part of the plan. It’s just an added bonus that we got you, considering that you deserve a payback for what you did the last time we met. A lucky coincidence, I would say.”

“So, then are you threatening so many innocent lives just to prove some point?” Maria shot back, her voice dripping with condescension.

“I’m not ‘proving a point’ so much as I’m doing ground-breaking research,” he snapped, suddenly all riled up, “Those weapons that I’m developing could revolutionise the world of warfare as we know it!”

Kowalski was genuinely angry as he continued raving, “Moreover, those scientists just had it coming. They’re all a bunch of snivelling cowards.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Maria asked.

“Those researchers are getting paid because of _me_ ,” Kowalski replied haughtily, pointing his finger to his chest for emphasis, “Their salaries come from the grant that _I_ was awarded.”

“And those ungrateful bastards have the nerve to stand up to me and lecture me about ethics, and how the experiments I’m asking them to do could potentially kill millions of people!” he spat out, his wide eyes making him look almost deranged, completely unlike his earlier composed behaviour.

Maria curbed the urge to sigh at him. It was the same thing all over again. Crazy, ingenious scientist not knowing when to stop. It was almost a repetition of what had happened years ago.

But Kowalski was on a roll, all but yelling, “Soon, they’re refusing to work, throwing the book at me, warning me with legal consequences and the next thing I know, my funding gets withdrawn,” he ranted, “The rest of my colleagues from all the other labs do absolutely _nothing_ to help me out, and I’m fucking left hung out to dry!”

Maria calmly listened to him, making mental notes of everything he was revealing. _This is good._ She had no idea what he was going to do with her, but she this was useful information to pass on to S.H.I.E.L.D., in the off chance that she was somehow able to get out of there.

Kowalski took a few deep breaths and the heaving in his chest reduced, “But that’s when _you_ people jumped in to be my knight in shining armour,” he sneered, “Ironic phrase, isn’t it, since you call yourself _S.H.I.E.L.D._ ”

Maria had to laugh at that, “You’re insane, Kowalski,” she said, “If you thought we were _ever_ going to help you.”

“Oh, I knew that. I figured it out when you sent your agents to scout the place,” Kowalski replied, smiling shrewdly, “You know, it had nearly worked. The agents were good, almost too good. We wouldn’t have suspected a thing.”

“But that perfectly timed offer coming from a defence technology company named ‘AEGIS?’” he scoffed, “That totally gave everything away,” he smirked, “Not very creative with names, are you, now.”

Maria bit back her frustration and guilt. The realisation that _she_ – and not Natasha or anything else – had ruined things was something she couldn’t digest. She hadn’t thought through it enough, and she had let her impulse take over. She’d made rash decisions, and they had put them _all_ in this pathetic situation.

Maria shut her eyes and swallowed to get rid of the tightness in her throat. She couldn’t afford to breakdown right now. She opened them before addressing the man.

“But why go to such crazy lengths, Kowalski?” Maria asked, genuinely curious, “You could have fled with whatever money you had left, but instead you chose to openly attack members of an international intelligence agency?”

Maria levelled a firm glare his way, “From where you stand, there’s no escape from this. Haven’t you lost enough already?”

Kowalski’s stepped forward, his grin widening almost manically, “You’re absolutely right, Agent,” he whispered, the gravelly tone making the hair at the back of Maria’s neck stand, “I can do whatever the _fuck_ I want – with you, your agents, and those scientists – because _I don’t have anything to lose._ ”

And that’s when Maria understood it all.

There _was_ no agenda.

All this was just some twisted Hail Mary for Kowalski to inflict as much chaos as he could before going down. He’d just been stringing her along all this while, feeding her the information because he wasn’t going to let her escape. Kowalski didn’t care if he got caught, and that was only going to make even more ruthless.

The realisation came crashing down on her and she barely noticed Kowalski nod towards the guy on his right. The man stalked towards Maria, his eyes gleaming murderously as he flexed the arm carrying the hockey stick.

This time, Maria didn’t even bother bracing herself.


	9. I’ve Got You

## The Widow

“Hurry the fuck up, Barton!” Natasha growled as they weaved through the barely-there road in the forest at breakneck speed.

Clint didn’t even spare her a glance as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and focused on driving. Natasha had half a mind to take the damn wheel herself, just so that she could do something with all the nervous energy buzzing through her.

But at least, Natasha was in better spirits than before. A few hours ago, she had just been about to start making plans to rescue the hostages, when the Beta team – the agents from the dossiers – had showed up, almost a godsend.

 _No,_ Natasha mused, _a Hill-send._

Because, she was the one who had actually given them the orders to be here. And just like that, Natasha had gotten enough people in her team. They could save both, the hostages and Maria.

With that new-found hope, Natasha had gone about strategizing immediately. From Clint’s assessment of the premises, she’d known that they would need their full manpower to break through the tight security. But they could possibly split up once they had reached the hostages.

And that’s what they had done. They’d come up with the plan that Natasha would lead one group that distracted the guards at the entrance, while the rest, headed by Clint, would sneak in through one of the side or back openings, making it a two-pronged attack.

And despite the whole thing taking much longer than she had expected, Natasha could barely remember gunning down layer after layer of those men almost singlehandedly.

She hadn’t been Natasha Romanoff at that time. She’d been the Black Widow on a fucking rampage.

It was as if her mind had zoned out for a while, her limbs striking out on pure instincts as she incapacitated anybody that had so much as entered her personal space. She’d only realised the annihilation she had caused when Perez had held her and shaken her out her crazed stupor.

But they’d made it to the hostages just in time as the other group reached and had quickly divided from them. Natasha’s sub-team had provided them cover fire while the hostages were being extracted.

From there, she had told the agents of the Beta team to get to the evac point – the place where Brady had landed the Quinjet – and leave for the headquarters, along with the scientists. Perez and Harris would go with them and show them the way.

Davis and Jones had stubbornly insisted on joining her and Clint as they would go after Hill, and Natasha hadn’t been able to refuse the staunch determination on the woman’s face. And so, the four of them had raced out of the lab using the jeep, while Miller rattled off the directions to Hill’s last known location over the comms.

But the drive was insufferably long, and Natasha knew that every passing second meant more pain being inflicted on Maria. _If they’ve even kept her alive._ She clenched her fists and fixed her eyes on some distant cliff she could see from the window, trampling the urge to punch through the glass.

“Okay, I think I know where they might have kept her,” Miller suddenly squeaked through the comms, “There’s an abandoned factory around 5 miles away from where you are right now. I’m getting strong radio signals from there. It has to be the one.”

And for once, Clint didn’t need to be told to step on it.

* * *

“You can’t fucking barge into the place without a plan, Tasha!” Clint whisper-yelled exasperatedly.

Natasha levelled him with a look that would have incinerated anyone else.

They were right there, at the building Miller had told them about, and there wasn’t a doubt that Maria was being kept here. Just like the lab, this place too had guards stationed around it. They had no idea where exactly Maria was being held in the factory, but Natasha honestly couldn’t wait any longer.

She opened her mouth to counter him, but Clint beat her to it, “We don’t even know where she’s being kept. If we go in, just like that, and they find out, they might just kill her.”

That effectively shut Natasha up. She knew he was right.

“Okay, so how do you want to do this?” Natasha asked, scowling at him.

“Just give me like 5 minutes – 7, tops – and I’ll find out where exactly Hill is,” Clint said, his tone firm but his eyes imploring her to agree, “Then you can move in.”

Natasha sighed frustratedly and nodded at him. As much as she hated wasting any more time, she knew Clint had a point. She looked over to the rest of the agents and saw her impatience mirrored on Davis’ face while Jones stood stiffly beside her.

Clint took off right after shooting a curt smile their way, and Natasha wished for the time to move faster.

_Just hang in there, Hill. Please._

## The Soldier

A punch to her gut had Maria wheezing for breath.

She coughed violently, her body swaying back and forth for a bit before coming to rest. Maria looked down, and she was marginally relieved that she hadn’t coughed up any blood. Which meant that her broken ribs hadn’t punctured her lungs just yet.

For some unfathomable reason, the man had only used the hockey stick once, to break her left leg, as if they didn’t want to let her run even if she managed to get out of the ropes. But Maria had merely looked up at him – dead in his eyes – as she took the blow.

That had ended up angering the man to no end. Hence, the punch that followed.

The combined pain was excruciating enough to make tears involuntarily spring up in her eyes, but Maria kept them at bay. She wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

The man aimed another hit at her when Kowalski gestured towards him to stop. He seemed to have understood that pain wasn’t going to break Maria’s pride. Sneering at her, he nodded strangely at the man. Maria didn’t know what that meant, but she kept her face as blank as all her injuries allowed.

The man lowered his arm and stalked towards her, gradually this time, eyeing her almost hungrily. Maria’s breath hitched when she felt his hands on the zipper of her tac suit, and she understood what was going to happen.

He pulled it down slowly – _deliberately_ – as he raked his gaze over her, like he could see right through the black undershirt she was wearing. He fixed her with a stare so lewd, it sent a shiver down her body.

This time when she shut her eyes to hold back the tears, they were tears of abject _humiliation_.

When Maria opened them, she saw the rest of the men circling her like a pack of wolves. They were taking their own time, she realised, letting her stew in her helplessness. Kowalski hadn’t moved; he was just smiling at her sadistically, enjoying the show. Maria forced herself to stay calm; she was stronger than this.

Just then, her eye caught some movement outside the room.

Through the window on her left, she saw the parapet of another part of the building, and she could make out the unmistakable silhouette of a bow. It disappeared just as quickly, before anybody else could notice it, but Maria had seen it long enough to know who it belonged to.

Barton.

Which meant Natasha was nearby.

Maria took a deep, calming breath, her mind suddenly relaxed. She simply raised her chin and glared at the men, her eyes clear and bold. One of them flicked open a Swiss knife and lightly ran it down the side of her neck, drawing blood.

But Maria didn’t flinch, didn’t even react. She knew they could only do so much before a certain redhead was going to hand them their asses.

As if on cue, an arrow materialised almost from nowhere and impaled the man on her left, straight in the neck, his blood splattering onto the guy with the knife.

They watched the man fall to the floor, blood gurgling out of his mouth as he writhed in his final moments, and eyed each other in utter astonishment. Maria simply smirked as they looked at her, knowing exactly what was going to happen next.

Barely 5 seconds later, the door was thrown open and Natasha charged in.

Her green orbs were spitting fire as she paused to assess the people in the room. Her eyes fell on Maria and softened just a bit, flickering with something Maria couldn’t discern.

Seeing everyone just gawk at her, the Russian merely holstered her gun and cracked her knuckles, her face cool and composed despite the rage in her eyes. _Oh, she’s so going to enjoy this._

Maria hadn’t seen any guns on the men surrounding her, but she didn’t know about Kowalski. As if to clear her doubt, Kowalski immediately reached into his coat, and Maria widened her eyes at Natasha in warning.

But the redhead didn’t need it.

Almost in a flash, Natasha ran towards him, flipping in the air as she kicked the gun out of his hands. She landed on her feet with the grace of a trained gymnast, and followed it with a roundhouse kick to Kowalski’s head, effectively knocking him out.

And then everything happened really fast.

The remaining four men headed for Natasha all at once. But she barely even broke a sweat as she dodged each of their blows with ease, flitting in and out of their reach while she made her own moves. Before Maria knew it, all of them were sprawled across the floor.

Natasha surveyed her work for a bit and then shifted her focus back to Maria, blowing a strand of her flaming red hair out of her eyes. If Maria hadn’t been in so much pain, she would have marvelled at how incredibly sexy Natasha looked like that. But she stuck to shooting her a clipped smile.

The shorter woman simply kicked aside one of the guys to clear her way and started walking towards Maria. Her heartbeat increased with Natasha’s every step and she tried to not look away from the redhead’s piercing eyes.

The spy stopped when she reached her, their faces just a few inches apart, and Maria could see that Natasha’s jaw was clenched in that stubborn way. Like it was taking everything she had not to unleash her wrath.

“Hey there, hot stuff _,”_ the redhead said eventually, inevitably making Maria scoff.

But the woman’s tone betrayed her concern, despite the cheeky words. Natasha observed her for a few moments, and it was as if the world around Maria slowed down. She could see a storm of emotions swirling in the redhead’s glassy emeralds, their intensity shocking Maria.

Natasha reached behind her to produce a knife and cut off the ropes above Maria with one smooth flick of her wrist, her gaze never leaving Maria’s face.

Maria fell to her knees the moment she was released, her injured body unable to support her weight anymore. She barely suppressed the groan as her broken leg collided with the ground. Her palms were flat against the floor, and she kept looking down, blinking back the tears and counting in her head, waiting for the pain to subside.

“Down on your knees, huh, Hill?” Natasha’s voice rang out, the sass in her words failing to cover up her worry and relief, “That your way of thanking me for saving your ass?”

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Maria replied, grunting at the pain as she straightened herself and looked up, “You’d better pray that you’ve followed my orders before coming here, Romanoff.”

“Well, I had to,” Natasha huffed, “Especially after you sent in the cavalry.”

Maria nodded, vaguely understanding what Natasha was saying. She guessed that the Beta team must have come in, giving them enough time and agents to extract the hostages and come for Maria. She sighed in exhaustion and took comfort in the fact that at least the entire mission hadn’t gone to hell.

Gathering every ounce of strength in her, Maria held up her arm for Natasha, knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to do this herself. Natasha scoffed at her, but took the hand. She helped Maria up to her feet, holding her in place as she swayed a bit. Once she was stable, Maria looked back at the shorter woman and just drank her in.

They were so close to each other, their breaths mingled. These were not at all the circumstances Maria had imagined being in when she would meet Natasha at the end of the week. But it was still an amazing feeling to have the redhead in her arms.

“ _I’ve_ got an order for _you_ this time, Agent Hill,” Natasha said after a bit, her eyes challenging Maria to disobey her, “ _Never_ kneel in front of anybody ever again.”


	10. Are You Alright?

## The Widow

“Never kneel in front of anybody ever again.”

Natasha watched the taller woman in her arms intently as she said the words. She meant them, with every fibre of her being.

When she’d cut the ropes to free Hill, Natasha’s hands had almost inched towards her to grab her. Yet, she hadn’t, not wanting to wound Hill’s pride any more than it already had been.

But it had been almost agonising to watch the ever-poised agent – one whose back had never been anything but ramrod straight – fall to the ground, weak and defeated.

Natasha knew it was a sight she would never want to witness again.

But as the brunette stood in front of her now, Natasha saw that her eyes were no longer tired and dim as she absorbed the words. The blue orbs were sparkling with an emotion that Natasha could see clear as water. Gratitude. For more than just rescuing her.

Before she could even help it, Natasha’s finger was tracing the trail of dried blood on Maria’s face, stopping right beside the bruise at the side of her lip. She found her own eyes getting a little misty when Maria tried her best to not flinch at the touch.

But the taller woman just shook her head, smiling at her reassuringly, and Natasha felt the reality around them melt away. She let herself drown in the endless depths of the sapphires as Maria observed her intently. Let the brunette search for whatever she wanted in her own eyes.

Their little moment was interrupted when Maria’s gaze abruptly darted towards something behind Natasha.

And despite her lightning-fast reflexes, Natasha didn’t know what happened until it did.

Maria suddenly gripped Natasha’s arm tighter and whirled them both around 180 degrees, switching their positions as she pulled her into an embrace, her other hand grabbing the gun out of Natasha’s holster.

The taller woman kept firing over Natasha’s shoulder until the entire clip was emptied, her breath coming out in ragged puffs by the end of it.

Natasha didn’t need to hear the sound of the body falling or the metal clattering onto the floor behind her to know what Maria had done.

Natasha pulled back a little and gently cupped Maria’s face, forcing her to tear her gaze away from the now-dead man. She looked deep into Maria’s eyes, trying to silently comfort her: _it’s okay. I’m okay._

The tortured look on Maria’s face faded and she took her into a hug again, all but sagging against Natasha as the gun slipped from her hands.

“You saved my life, didn’t you?” Natasha chocked out the words, more in awe than in question.

“Just returning the favour,” came Maria’s strangled response.

The statement somehow stung Natasha.

“You never owed me anything,” she said, shifting deeper into the embrace.

Only then did she notice that the brunette was trembling. She pulled out of the hug and was about to ask her if she was fine, when Davis and Jones came running into the room, their expressions alarmed. They quickly whipped out their guns, riddling the men on the floor with bullets when they saw them starting to stir.

“Agent Hill,” Davis said after lowering her weapon, her features briefly relaxing, “It’s great to see you again.”

Maria held onto Natasha for support as she turned herself around to face the agents. She nodded at them as she spoke, “Good to see you too, Davis.”

“We need to leave,” Jones said, taking over, “They know we’re here and they’re coming for us.”

“Why would they do that?” Natasha scoffed, “Their leader is lying here, knocked out cold.”

“Yeah, they don’t know that,” Jones replied, his tone urgent, “And I don’t think they care. They’ve been hired to take out the threats regardless of anything. So, we need to get the hell out of here. _Now_.”

“We’ve got to arrest him, though,” Maria said, motioning towards Kowalski’s unconscious body. Natasha recognised him from the files Maria had given them at the starting of the mission.

“He’s an international criminal,” the brunette said, and Natasha almost huffed in frustration.

_Of course, we have to arrest him. Of fucking course._

“And before you suggest it, no, we can’t leave him here,” Maria said, looking at Natasha, “We let him go the last time and look what that costed us.”

Davis and Jones approached the lying man and cuffed his hands before slapping his face to try waking him up. But the man didn’t budge, much to everyone’s annoyance. And this time, Natasha didn’t even try to hold back her growl.

“Okay. This is not going to work,” Maria started, her tone strong and commanding, making Natasha’s heart briefly soar at how _normal_ she sounded, despite everything.

“I obviously can’t do it, so I need you two – Davis and Jones – to take him with you,” the brunette said, “Romanoff and I will provide cover fire.”

The relief fizzled out as soon as it came and Natasha’s head whipped in her direction, “You can barely walk.”

“Do you have a better plan?” Maria countered, shooting her a stern look.

Natasha returned the glare; the answer to the question at the tip of her tongue: _of course, I do. Leave the fucking bastard and haul ass right out of here._ But she didn’t say it out loud, knowing that she wasn’t going to change Maria’s mind. Davis and Jones looked at their senior officers apprehensively, but neither made any comment.

“Thought so,” Maria snapped, quickly zipping up her tac suit before addressing the agents, “Davis, grab me one of those metal rods from the back,” she ordered, pointing to the far end of the basement.

Davis ran off to do her bidding and the brunette looked back at Natasha, “And I hope you guys brought along ammo.”

Natasha merely snorted at that, producing magazines and an extra gun.

Within the next minute, they were ready to leave. Davis and Jones each had one of Kowalski’s arms slung across their shoulders, guns clasped in their free hands, while Natasha stood in front them, ready to open the door.

She glanced to her right and found Maria standing beside her, using the rod for support, her jaw clenched determinedly and the grip on her gun firm. And Natasha was struck with admiration and almost reverence for the woman. Her tenacity was completely untouched despite everything that had gone down.

She curled her hand around Maria’s on the rod, making the brunette look at her. Natasha gazed into her eyes, asking the question she hadn’t been able to voice out.

Maria gave her a genuine, gentle smile – a rare and _beautiful_ look on her, if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire – and blinked in response: _I’m fine. I’ll_ be _fine._

Natasha returned a bittersweet chuckle, knowing what Maria was trying to do. She unconsciously rubbed her thumb over the taller woman’s knuckles, as if willing for some of her agony to go away. But she knew there was no painless way out of this.

When Natasha turned around to address the agents, her face was clear and her voice was sharp, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”


	11. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, this chapter is from Barton's perspective.

## The Archer

“I’ve got Hill,” Natasha’s voice rang in Clint’s earpiece, just as he let another arrow fly.

“We have a bit of additional baggage with us,” she added, “We’re going to need help,” she said, and he turned to look at the room where they’d kept Hill.

Clint had been perched on the parapets of the building’s side wing. It was a strategic vantage point such that he could see the basement entrance and the other side of the building. He could take down anyone who approached the basement from the front.

Of course, they would be out in the open once they started heading for the exit, but they would cross the bridge once they got there. (Literally).

He looked over to the basement and saw the group huddle out of there. Natasha was leading, her stance alert and her gun already trained in front of her. Hill was beside her, hobbling despite what looked like a metal rod in her hand.

But even from the distance, Clint could see the grit on the agent’s face, her neck whipping around to check for threats. He understood what Natasha had meant when he spotted Davis and Jones stumble out, dragging the unconscious body of a man between them.

Clint sighed in frustration. They would be fine as long as they were in that corridor. But once they left it to go for the exit point, there was be a long patch of land till they got to the jeep where they would be exposed. And that clumsy group was going to be all but sitting ducks.

Clint knew he could take out some of the assailants, but they were going to be on their own if someone managed to get close. Luckily, after all this while, he’d come to notice that only some of the guards were actually armed with guns. But they still had their sheer number as an advantage. Clint prayed for them to get out of the place as unscathed as possible.

Natasha and the rest of them had just started moving when, out of nowhere, a group of around 20 men ambushed them.

Clint figured that they must have come from the side of the basement that wasn’t visible to him. But he didn’t have the time to curse himself for not spotting them earlier, as he saw another group, much larger in size, approaching them from the front.

Clint started running to get to them, rapidly launching arrows at the bigger group, hoping that the four agents could manage till he got there. Despite his impeccable aim, he didn’t shoot at the closer group of attackers, not wanting to risk accidentally injuring one of his own.

* * *

When he got down there, Clint realised that neither of his team members needed his help. The agents were doing more than fine on their own.

Natasha simultaneously had two men in a chokehold while Hill swung the rod right above Natasha’s head, taking down a third assailant approaching her. Davis and Jones were still dragging the man along while firing stray shots towards anyone that came close enough.

Even as he battled his own set of attackers, Clint could see Natasha and Hill in his peripheral vision. And it was difficult to concentrate on his own blows, simply because it was so mesmerising to watch them fight.

He and Natasha worked like a well-oiled machine, one knowing the other’s move before they even made it. But Hill and Natasha were like two forces of nature, complementing each other in the best ways.

Natasha’s moves were fast and fluid. She used her agility wisely, landing a hard punch to one guy’s stomach and then using his body to propel herself and flip in the air to kick another guy. Her blows were as graceful as they were aggressive, and her hits were relentless, not giving the other person time to even breath.

Whereas Hill’s approach was calm and calculated; she waited for the opponent to make a mistake or give her an opening before delivering the debilitating blow. She used the rod as a weapon whenever possible, to avoid moving around much. And she manoeuvred it effortlessly, like she’d always been trained to fight that way.

While Natasha was wild and vicious, Hill was subtle and sure.

It was like watching fire and water come together.

Seeing Clint, Natasha tightened her grip around one of the guys and kneed him hard in the groin. She whirled around and slammed a fist into another guy’s head, knocking him out. Clint saw Hill dodge a blow and land a solid uppercut to her attacker’s jaw, the sickening crack of the bone taking him down immediately.

Hill hobbled around to face them, and Clint could make out the strain in her features at every movement, her knuckles turning white because of the tight grip over the rod. He had no idea how bad her injuries were, but from the tensed look on Natasha’s face, he could make out that her condition wasn’t nearly fine.

“We can’t take them all out,” Natasha said, only a little out of breath, “We need to move.”

Clint nodded at that grimly. They had briefly incapacitated all the attackers, but he could already hear the distant rumble of footsteps coming their way. They quickly assumed their positions with Natasha and Hill in the front, Davis and Jones propping the unconscious man in the middle, and Clint at the back, arrows already nocked in his bow.

Somehow, they managed to cross the corridor without anyone coming for them.

Even in the dark of the night, he could see the outline of their jeep at the end of the land stretching out in front of them. It was just a short 100-yard distance, but it seemed like it was miles long. They started moving, but the speed was far too slow for Clint’s liking, given Hill’s broken leg and the dead-weight they were lugging.

They had gotten through three-quarters of the distance when shots started getting fired their way.

Biting back curses, Clint angled himself around as he continued to run, launching multiple arrows at the same time. Somewhere in front of him, he knew Natasha and Hill were firing back with their own guns.

Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to stop the volley of bullets, Clint turned back around and helped Davis and Jones with the man. By sharing some of the weight, Clint was able to increase their collective speed.

He saw Natasha take Hill’s arm and sling it over her shoulder, effectively supporting the taller woman’s weight and dragging her as they struggled to hurry themselves. All except Hill were wearing Kevlars, but Clint still hoped to God that no one would be hit.

And for the next excruciatingly slow seconds, they just ran.

Their hearts were in their throats and their visions tunnelled around the jeep as they made a mad dash for it. They finally reached the end of the field, after what seemed like an eternity, and Clint unceremoniously dumped the unconscious man at the back of the car, letting Davis and Jones handle the rest, and scrambled for the driver’s seat.

He barely glanced back to make sure everyone was in, not waiting to check if they were even settled, before revving up the engine and jamming his foot down the accelerator. He veered the car out of the driveway, flinching only slightly when a bullet tore off the side mirror, and raced out of there.

The jeep was S.H.I.E.L.D. issued, so the windows were bullet-proof, but Clint still didn’t dare to look back until the deafening sound gunshots faded into the night. Only once he was convinced that they were a safe distance away did his heartbeat slow down and he breathed in deeply, savouring the silence as the blood rush in his ears.

He cursed himself for that moment earlier, when he had wished for the day to be more eventful.


	12. Your Blood on My Hands

## The Widow

Natasha wobbled as she held on to Maria’s arm slung over her shoulder, trying to support both their weights while staggering towards the Quinjet in the dark.

Throughout the ride, she had seen Maria wince and grit her teeth as Clint practically flew past the trees at insane speeds, and Natasha was desperate to get her into a comfortable position. But she forced herself to slow down this time, not wanting to jostle Maria’s wounds anymore.

Clint and Jones had already gone inside the Quinjet – the one that the Alpha team had arrived in – with Kowalski in tow, and they were probably setting up the controls for take-off. Davis had stayed behind, her gun trained in front of her, her eyes scanning the dark in the remote case that they were followed.

They were just a few paces away from the entrance when Natasha feel Maria’s knees buckle. She was prepared to catch her before she fell, but the brunette somehow managed to stay upright. Natasha saw the stubborn clench in her jaw and knew that it was sheer willpower that was keeping Maria going.

Her grip on Natasha’s shoulder was too tight, there would be bruises later, but Natasha didn’t mind at that point. Davis saw them struggle and quickly came by their side, taking Maria’s other hand over her own shoulder.

The trio stumbled into the Quinjet just when Clint exited the cockpit. Natasha nodded wordlessly at him and he jogged back in, barking instructions at Jones to start the engine.

She looked around and saw Kowalski strapped onto one of the seats – still unconscious – and she had the uncontrollable urge to unload an entire magazine into the fucker’s chest.

A pained moan from Maria brought her back to her senses, and Natasha gently lowered the brunette onto the nearest seat.

The lighting inside the Quinjet was still dim, but Natasha could see that Maria’s face was pale and she was utterly exhausted, her eyes fighting to stay open. Natasha badly wanted to reach down to her and hold her hand, but she had to do something else first.

She went up to Kowalski and squatted down to check his pulse, her other hand motioning Davis to gather the emergency supplies available in the Quinjet. Natasha rummaged through the contents that Davis brought over, searching for a particular vial.

She checked the label before drawing the liquid into a syringe. She prepared it for injection and jabbed it into the man’s upper arm with more force than necessary. _That should keep him out for the whole ride._

“Dammit, Hill,” Natasha huffed as she stood up, “This bastard better be worth all the trouble.”

She turned around after a bit when she received no response and found Davis kneeling by Maria’s side. Natasha saw the brunette’s eyes were scrunched close, obviously trying to hold back tears, and her hands were pressed against her left side. Alarms going off in her mind, Natasha quickly reached down to her.

She forgot to breath as her eyes zeroed in on the large red stain on Maria’s tac suit, the one that was perfectly visible up close.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Natasha whispered, her hand ghosting over the stain, “Are you hit?”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, afraid of what she would see if she pulled Maria’s hands away.

The brunette’s eyes opened and they searched for Natasha. She just shook her head and pursed her lips, in too much pain to speak. Natasha gently pried Maria’s hands away, her own fingers shaking in apprehension.

She was relieved when she found that there wasn’t a hole on the suit. She lowered the zipper on the suit to take a look and her breath hitched at the sight of blood slowly gushing out of the tear in the undershirt Maria was wearing.

“Knife wound,” Maria murmured, her voice barely audible through her gritted teeth.

Natasha gingerly lifted the undershirt and felt the prickle of tears at the back of her eyes as she took in the long, horizontal gash right below Maria’s rib-cage, starting in the centre, above her navel, tracing the lowest bone.

The bleeding hadn't stopped, but it wasn't as profuse as one would expect a wound that long to cause, and so Natasha guessed – and prayed – that the cut was not too deep.

But Natasha couldn’t figure out when Maria had gotten the wound, since she was sure it wasn’t there when she had first found her in the basement. And she couldn’t have got it during their exit, because her outer suit was completely intact. So that only left –

_Oh. That_ _moment. When she had hugged me._

The memory suddenly hit Natasha like a bus.

She remembered when Maria had turned them both around, back in that basement, pulling her into that embrace when the guy had charged towards them. Natasha had heard the unmistakable sound of the knife falling to the floor behind her after Maria killed him.

It had to be that moment. Natasha had guessed that Maria had saved her probably from a fatal strike. She realised now that the bastard had somehow managed to make that cut, just not on his initial target.

Maria suddenly grabbed her hand, her grip firm for just a second before going slack. The brunette’s other hand reached up to touch Natasha’s bandaged arm, right where the bullet had grazed her.

“It’s not your fault,” Maria whispered, her eyes fixed on Natasha’s wound, “It was never your fault.”

Natasha nearly chocked back a sob the second the words escaped the woman’s lips.

She wasn’t one to get so emotional about injuries. Hell, she and Hill had patched each other up during several missions before. But somehow, the situation and the circumstances leading to it right now were making it all so heart-wrenching for Natasha. Because Maria didn’t even seem to realise that she was _still_ saving her. From the guilt. From _herself_.

But Natasha shook herself out of her thoughts. She couldn’t afford to get caught in the treacherous web of feelings right now; not when Maria was bleeding out in front of her. She’d already lost quite some blood, and there was still the risk of the wound getting infected.

Natasha looked over to Davis and saw that she had already brought over the medical supplies. Gathering all the stuff that she needed, Natasha got to work.

She cleaned off the blood, trying her best to ignore the way Maria would hiss and shut her eyes at the contact. She gently rubbed her knuckles across Maria’s cheek after that, apologising in advance, because she knew the next part was going to hurt.

Maria opened her eyes, “Go ahead,” she nodded at her weakly, “You’re going to have to stitch it up.”

Natasha returned the nod quietly, not trusting herself with the words, and beckoned Davis over with a flick of her wrist.

She started the procedure once the brunette had gripped Davis’ hand tightly. From the way Maria’s ab muscles had gone taut the second the needle had pierced the tender skin, Natasha could guess just how much pain it was causing.

But her heart altogether broke when she looked up to see the agent’s face.

The bone in Maria’s jaw was twitching furiously from being clenched so tightly, and the hand holding on to Davis’ was trembling. Her eyes were screwed shut and her lips were thinned into a line, holding back the cries of pain. Her forehead was lined with a thin sheen of sweat and she was breathing sharply, trying to endure the agony in silence.

Natasha worked quickly and efficiently, having done this far too many times in the past, and within a few minutes the gash was sewn close. She covered it with some gauze and bandaged it up. There wasn’t much in the supplies, but Natasha found some painkillers and made Maria gulp them down with some water. She watched as the agent thirstily downed the entire bottle.

Once she was done, Natasha ran a soft finger above Maria’s wound, taking in the myriad of bruises on her ribs, and she knew that at least a few were cracked. She had no idea of just how many injuries Maria had sustained, and it was killing her to just sit and watch the brunette in pain.

As if sensing her turmoil, Maria left Davis’ hand to cover Natasha’s, making her look at her, and gave her a pained smile.

“Don’t sweat it, Romanoff. I’ll live,” the brunette said, her voice weak and strained, “I still want the paperwork for this op on my desk in the next two days.”

And Natasha simply couldn’t hold back the chuckle, which bloomed into an actual laugh seeing Maria’s eyes crinkle at the edges with genuine fondness.

It soon morphed into an angry huff, though, and Natasha dropped her gaze. Because she was suddenly very, _very,_ mad at Hill. Mad at her for being here. Mad at her for saving Natasha. Mad at her for being injured. Mad at her for being so fucking tough all the time.

Mad at her for being so… _Hill._

Did she not know that she didn’t have to suffer in silence? That she didn’t have to keep holding it in? That she –

“Agent Romanoff,” Davis’ voice brought her back, her tone anxious and urgent, “Agent Hill is losing consciousness.”


	13. Talk to Me

## The Widow

“Agent Hill is losing consciousness.”

Natasha heard Davis’ words and looked back up at Maria to see her eyelids drooping. She knew even with the Quinjet’s augmented speed, it would take some time to get to the Helicarrier. She called out to Barton, her hand squeezing Maria’s to keep her awake.

Clint briskly walked out of the cockpit, “The aircraft is set to autopilot. We should be go– _Holy crap._ ”

He stopped abruptly as he took in Maria’s condition and the bloody mess of the used paraphernalia around them. He ran up to Natasha, squatting down beside her, “Is it a GSW?”

“No, it’s from a knife,” Natasha spat out, barely concealing the guilt in her voice, “Inform headquarters to start moving towards us. They’re going to have to meet us halfway,” she ordered, “And tell them to keep the med-staff ready.”

Clint nodded at that, sparing a single, concerned glance towards the wounded agent, and then jogged back into the cockpit. In a matter of seconds, Natasha could feel the Quinjet speed up in the air, and she shifted her focus back to Maria.

“Keep talking to her,” Davis urged, “We can’t let her pass out.”

Natasha racked her brains to get a topic to talk about. She’d had conversations with Maria, but they were either mission-related discussions or banter. They enjoyed each other’s company, but they weren’t really friends, in the conventional sense.

All the real, intense dialogue would often happen among them unsaid, mostly because Natasha wasn’t exactly the biggest confronter of feelings. (She doubted Maria was). But Natasha realised she didn’t have so much of a choice right now. _There’s always a first time for everything._

She squeezed the brunette’s hand again, making her eyes flutter open, “You know, Hill, I’ve never told anyone this, but I was very scared when S.H.I.E.L.D. first caught me.”

“You mean, when _you_ surrendered to _us_?” Maria scoffed weakly, “You could’ve escaped any time you wanted to.”

And Natasha flashed her a genuine smile. The fact that Maria was awake enough to be correcting her was a good sign.

“Yeah, well, potato- _potato,_ ” Natasha said it the second time in a strong Russian accent, making Maria chuckle lightly, “So, as I was saying, I was scared when I first came to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“I can’t remember exactly what I was afraid of,” Natasha said, looking back at Maria to check if she was with her, “Whether it was the crushing realisation of how much pain I had inflicted all my life, or it was the sheer uncertainty of what was going to happen to me; I can’t seem to recall the reason.”

“But the dread passed almost as soon as it came,” Natasha went on, and found that Maria’s gaze was fixed on her, “Because I realised I was _scared._ The Red Room hadn’t taught us to fear anyone _but_ them. Those who did got… _punished_.”

She paused briefly. To drown out the screams in her mind; the blood-curdling sounds haunting her – _taunting_ her – even after so many years.

“But there I was – scared out of my wits – prepared to give you all the intel you needed,” Natasha said, her voice getting heavy with everything she was admitting out loud for the first time, “And yet, there wasn’t a care in my mind about whether they would come after me.”

She noticed that at some point in her story, Davis had left them to go… to the cockpit? Natasha didn’t really care, but she was glad for the privacy.

“I knew I wasn’t free from them,” Natasha continued, trying to keep her voice even, “I _know_ I’ll probably never be completely free from them.”

She kept saying ‘them’ instead of ‘The Red Room.’ As if the pronoun could wipe out the name once and for all from her mind.

“But in that moment, I was rebelling,” Natasha said, “Just by being _afraid_ – by doing something I’d never been allowed to do – I had stolen a slice of independence.”

She noticed Maria’s eyes soften at the twisted logic of her words. Natasha thought she would see pity in them. Or anger. But all she saw was pain. _Her own_ anguish mirrored in the brunette’s eyes. And it was so utterly liberating, it took Natasha’s breath away.

“I realised I wanted that,” she resumed, “Whatever version of freedom that was, I wanted it. Even if it meant getting imprisoned or even killed after you guys got all the information you wanted.”

Natasha exhaled audibly, trying to ease the weight off all the stuff she had revealed, “But then, you and Fury came in and cut me the smoothest deal ever. Seriously, y’all should have negotiated better,” she said, smiling as she continued, “I still remember the first thing you said to me –”

“‘Get your damned feet off the table, Romanova,’” Maria supplied, returning Natasha’s smile.

“I remember that day, too,” the brunette murmured, her eyes glistening at the memory, “You were such a pain in my ass. You were being so difficult, with all the snappy answers and the spectacular poker face.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t let you guys know just how nervous I was,” Natasha chuckled in reply, her thumb unconsciously rubbing circles over Maria’s wrist.

“Well, you were making me question our decision to not kill you,” Maria revealed softly, looking away in remorse.

“But then you chose to keep your memories, when we told you they could be wiped out during the reprogramming…” the brunette trailed off, still not facing at Natasha, “That… that’s when my perspective first began to change.”

“Why?” Natasha blurted out before she even knew it.

She was hating the fact that Maria wasn’t looking at her. The woman had no reason to feel guilty; she’d had all the right to be hostile towards Natasha, given her past.

“Because it showed that you cared,” Maria replied simply, finally facing Natasha, “You were strong enough to keep walking with the burden of your past, even when we offered to get rid of it.”

“I know how hard it is to go on with life, with the mistakes you’ve committed constantly haunting you,” Maria murmured, visibly stiffening and then wincing at the movement, “It’s exhausting and almost crippling at times.”

Natasha knew very little about the agent’s history, and she had to wonder just what the brunette had gone through in her past.

“But you were brave enough to keep your ghosts,” Maria went on, her tired eyes briefly shining with admiration, “It made me think that you didn’t just want a new start. You _really_ wanted redemption.”

And Natasha could only stare at her as she swallowed the lump in her throat, flashing the brunette a weak smile.

Maria smiled back wistfully, “I respected that.”

There it was again. Respect. Natasha didn’t know how much she wanted that respect until Maria had started giving it to her. And hearing her confirm it right now made a surge of unfathomable emotions flood her heart.

“And then, there was also that moment during your reprogramming,” Maria said suddenly, bringing back Natasha’s focus.

“What are you talking about?” Natasha asked, partly to keep the brunette conscious and talking, and partly because she was genuinely curious.

She knew that the blood loss and the painkillers were probably wearing on Maria, lowering the walls she had built around her and making her reveal stuff she never would under normal circumstances. And Natasha felt a little guilty for almost preying on Maria’s drug-induced vulnerability right now, but she couldn’t help it.

Maria sighed tiredly before beginning, “I’m not sure how much of it you actually remember, but during your treatment, you used to have… _episodes,_ ” she said, her voice still weak, but surprisingly firm, “You would have nightmares and at times, when you’d wake up, you wouldn’t know where you were.”

“One night, I was doing my rounds when I heard you scream,” Maria continued, “I went inside your cell and I remember having my gun trained at you when I shook you awake. But you didn’t recognise me and immediately attacked me, pinning me against the wall.”

The brunette paused to take a breath. The talking was taking up a lot of her energy. But Natasha didn’t recall the incident, her memories of that period being a mere haze, and she wanted to know what happened next, so she didn’t stop her.

“But then,” Maria resumed after a bit, “You grabbed my hand and fixed my gun right above your heart.”

“You told me to kill you right then, or give you a chance to make amends,” the brunette murmured, squeezing Natasha’s hand, as if that night had been painful for _her_.

“Your eyes, Natasha,” she whispered, and Natasha’s heart all but stopped at the sound of her name on Maria’s lips, “Your eyes were ablaze with desperation.”

“I’ve never forgotten their look since I saw them that night, in the dark,” the brunette said, her own blue sapphires scanning Natasha’s face.

“I could see it right then, that you were done with that life,” Maria said, her tone confident despite her fatigue, “It was either death or a second chance. There was no midway; you didn’t _want_ a midway.”

The brunette gave her a warm smile, “Almost all my reservations about you evaporated that night.”

Natasha had no memory of this interaction, but she was deeply moved by just how accurate Maria’s conclusion was. Natasha had known that she would probably never have a place where she would really belong, but she was done with running. But the fact that this was all it had taken for the woman to trust her was almost unbelievable.

“Because I knew you deserved it,” Maria added softly, “And while everyone deserves a second chance, very few are actually offered one,” she said, her voice adopting that strange tone that Natasha couldn’t quite decipher.

“I wanted to see what you would do with yours,” Maria exhaled, looking at Natasha intently.

“Wait, was this right before they stopped hand-cuffing me to the bed during the day?” Natasha asked after a bit, remembering it only now, “I always wondered what suddenly changed your minds.”

Maria nodded sheepishly and Natasha couldn’t help the smile on her face, “And was that why I started getting actually drinkable coffee and a legitimate breakfast instead of the oatmeal gunk they were feeding me all the while? Was that also you?”

“That’s the food we give to the prisoners,” Maria responded almost instantly, “I couldn’t have you eating that. You were on your way to becoming an agent,” she said, with an exhausted, defensive smile on her lips, “You were going to be one of us.”

Natasha felt a surreal warmth course through her at Maria’s admission. She didn’t know what she had done to be bestowed with Maria’s faith, but she was overwhelmed by it, nevertheless.

The realisation suddenly dawned upon her that in her own inconspicuous ways, Maria had been trying to assimilate Natasha into her new world, into S.H.I.E.L.D., without even letting her know. She had been looking out for Natasha without even expecting any credit in return.

They kept staring at each other wordlessly for a while, their eyes having a whole conversation about everything they would never be able to say out loud.

* * *

Clint’s garbled voice over the radio sliced through the silence, jerking the two women out of their stupor, when he announced that they were expected to reach the Helicarrier’s coordinates soon.

Natasha looked back at Maria and noticed that her pallor had suddenly turned as white as a sheet. Her barely open eyes looked almost lifeless, the affliction marking her features more prominently than ever, and Natasha realised just how severely their conversation had waned her strength.

She cursed herself for making the wounded agent talk for so long and grabbed her hand. The drugs were probably making it even harder for the woman to stay conscious and Natasha found herself worrying when Maria’s hand fell almost limp in hers. She gently nudged the brunette’s arm and squeezed her hand, making her eyes crack open just a bit.

“Hey-hey, Hill. Stay with me, please,” Natasha begged, “Just a few more minutes.”

But Maria just moaned in response, her irregular breathing making Natasha panic, “Come on, Hill. We’re almost there, I promise.”

But Maria’s head simply lolled over, her eyes merely thin slits. Natasha realised she needed to start talking to her again. That was what had gotten Maria’s attention all this while.

Desperate to just say _something_ , Natasha simply blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, “You know, Hill, from the very start, I was fascinated by you.”

She mentally cringed at herself for her terribly childish words. But she saw that Maria’s eyes had opened a little more, like she was actually listening.

“Yeah, I mean, you were different from the rest,” Natasha carried on, clearing her throat, “I remember being conscious of everyone’s stares when I started training, after my reprogramming,” she said, rubbing a hand over Maria’s arm when she saw her shiver a little.

“In fact, I’ve noticed the way people have regarded me all my life,” Natasha said self-deprecatingly, her eyes momentarily shutting to gather herself.

“To the Red Room, I was a weapon. To the people at S.H.I.E.L.D., I was – I _am –_ a killer,” she said, her voice catching on the words.

“To Fury, I was an asset, and to Clint…” she paused, a fond smile on her lips, “To Clint, I was the defector he’d saved, who eventually became his friend.”

Natasha glanced at the brunette’s face and found that Maria’s breathing had steadied just a bit, and she was looking at her, transfixed, just like before.

“But you,” Natasha said, gazing deeply into the eyes of the woman she had come to admire, “To you, I was just another agent.”

Maria’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and Natasha realised that she’d ended rather anticlimactically. She smiled lightly and took Maria’s hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over the brunette’s knuckles.

“You didn’t treat me any different from the other agents at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Natasha explained, and saw Maria’s face relax, “You knew it was there, but you still looked right past label of ‘The Black Widow’ that the world had slapped on to me.”

“And even though it was only for a while, it was relieving to not be that,” Natasha said quietly, “To be just be Natasha Romanoff. An agent under your command, who you bossed over and ordered around during missions.”

Maria nodded almost deliriously, and Natasha wondered how much of this the brunette was even going to remember later.

From the window behind Maria, she could see the Helicarrier coming into view, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha looked back at Maria and saw her face had that familiar, thoughtful expression, like she was trying to analyse everything Natasha had said.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Maria mumbled, her voice so weak, Natasha had to strain her ears to listen.

“You gave me enough reasons to look past that label,” the brunette revealed softly, and Natasha had to hold back the urge to point out everything that was wrong with that statement.

“And I don’t know if you’re going to like this, but I just have to say it,” Maria murmured, her features briefly free from the exhaustion and pain as she gazed at Natasha’s hand still entwined with hers.

“You aren’t just an agent to me, Natasha,” she breathed.

Natasha felt her heartbeat increase at the words. She froze in her position when she felt Maria’s hand cup her cheek. The brunette’s grip was weak, and her hand was shaking, but she held on, making Natasha lock gazes with her.

Despite everything, Maria’s eyes were clear and almost imploring as she looked straight at Natasha and whispered the words she hadn’t even known she wanted to hear since forever, “ _Kiss me_.”


	14. Situation Normal: All Fucked Up

_A few days later…_

## The Soldier

Probably for the first time since she’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D., Maria was nervous about a debriefing.

The tension was evident in her movements as she struggled to balance the files and the tablet in one hand while hobbling towards the conference room, the cane given to her for support doing bare minimum to help her.

Maria tried to maintain some semblance of grace as she walked (stumbled) past familiar faces. Somehow preventing herself from looking like a bumbling idiot, she finally made it to the room without dropping any item. As always, Maria was the first one there, and she took the solitude to mull over everything going on her mind.

While everyone had come back from the operation in one piece (a subjective statement, but she would never admit it), there was still a lot that had gone wrong with the mission. And it had all been Maria’s fault. Her medical leave after returning to the Helicarrier 4 days back had given her enough time to figure out exactly why.

Immediately after arriving at the Helicarrier, Maria had been kept sedated for the first 2 days, even though she had miraculously not had any internal damage. She’d scoffed at the doctor when she’d explained how Maria’s body had been utterly sleep-deprived and she needed to rest to recuperate from all the injuries and the overexertion.

But for the next 2 days, when Maria hadn’t been catching up on the scores of reports demanding her attention, she’d been replaying the events of that mission in her mind, over and over again. And Maria had come to the realisation that all her actions and decisions had essentially stemmed from her almost irrational concern for a certain Russian spy.

Maria had literally dropped everything at hand and left at the mere possibility of Natasha being in danger. And while it had made her more driven than ever, her fear had interfered with her ability to think straight, and her half-assed strategy had almost costed her the team.

And she had been beating herself up about it ever since. This wasn’t her; she was Maria Hill – _Hardass_ Hill – whose backup plans had backup plans. She was never one to work on a whim. And yet, she’d done just that _throughout_ this mission. And though they had somehow managed to succeed, it wasn’t nearly a performance Maria would want to repeat in the future.

And all that had made her realise that she wasn’t just _concerned_ about the redheaded agent. She’d caught feelings for Natasha Romanoff, and she’d caught them _bad._

Just the thought made Maria groan internally. Not because of her epiphany; deep down, she’d known that all the flirting and the banter was going to snowball into something more. And it had, a long time back. Maria had just taken time to realise it.

The fact that made the whole thing almost intolerable was Natasha’s rejection.

Maria shut her eyes as the memory flashed in her mind, when she had asked Natasha to kiss her, back on the Quinjet. It had been a moment of sheer weakness and vulnerability where Maria had given in to her heart’s desire, just that one time.

But Natasha’s softly whispered _no_ had made sure it would be the last time. Maria hadn’t seen the redhead ever since they’d come back, and honestly, she was glad. She wasn’t sure she could deal with the awkwardness.

Maria opened her eyes and tried to shake herself out of it. She’d handled rejection tons of times before.

From her father. From the military.

She would do it yet again.

The only problem was, her feelings for the smaller woman were still ostensibly there, and she just couldn’t make them go away. Even after being turned down by Natasha, Maria simply couldn’t bring herself to hate the woman. There was a pesky ache in her heart that seemed to cause her more pain than all her injuries.

_When ever did my life turn into a fucking rom-com._

Except, this one _wouldn’t_ end happily. Because Natasha didn’t like her. She might not even be into women. The teasing and bickering may as well have been a part of the redhead’s natural charm. Maria cringed inwardly for not considering that before.

She ran a tired hand over her face and shook her head at the realisation of just how royally she had embarrassed herself.

And that’s how Fury found her when he barged into the room: her palm covering her mouth while her head bobbed almost hysterically, like she was in the middle of a crisis. The Director took in her appearance, his visible eye twitching with something akin to amusement.

He soon quit trying to hide it and smirked outright, “Well, it’s about damn time I saw _you_ have an off day.”

## The Widow

Natasha almost had a sense of déjà vu as she came out of her quarters that morning and ran right into Clint. Only this time, he _wasn’t_ grinning at her like an idiot had his eyebrows furrowed together in genuine question instead.

“You heading for the debrief?” he asked, eyeing the file with the paperwork in Natasha’s hand.

“Yeah,” she answered and started walking. Her sprained ankle hadn’t fully healed yet, but it didn’t slow her down even a bit.

“The backup teams have already been debriefed, apparently,” Clint informed, “This one’s just for us elders.”

“Sounds fun,” Natasha muttered and increased her pace.

Clint quickly jogged beside her to match her step, “Are you okay?”

The question caught Natasha by surprise and her step faltered just enough for Clint to catch on it. He stepped in front of her and blocked her way, “Hey, Tasha, stop. Answer me.”

“ _Of course_ , I’m okay, Clint,” she replied, “Now, can you stop acting like my wife?”

“Interesting choice of words,” Clint mumbled as she continued walking.

“And why would you even ask that?” Natasha suddenly said, making them stop in their tracks, “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You tell me,” Clint said, throwing his hands in the air, “You haven’t been yourself ever since we’ve come back from, what has to be, the _weirdest_ mission of all times.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Natasha said dismissively, avoiding looking at him or else he would catch the blatant lie.

“Of course, you do,” Clint said, his hand on her arm, “You’re the person who avoids the med-bay like the plague and yet, you were in there a dozen times when they’d kept Hill.”

Natasha had to shut her eyes in annoyance. Of course, Clint had noticed that.

“And even after they discharged her, you’ve been hovering around her room, like some kind of a stalker,” he added and this time, Natasha actually cringed at how pathetic she was coming off as.

“I was just checking on her,” she muttered defensively, and felt Clint’s grip on her arm tighten.

It was the truth, but the words didn’t nearly encompass just how worried she had been about the wounded agent.

“Tasha, come on,” he began, and Natasha had to roll her eyes at his big-brother tone, “You need to get your shit together.”

Natasha waited for the lecture, but it didn’t come. Clint just shot her a strange look and started walking again, as if that one-liner was supposed to help her magically sort out the mess that was in her heart for the past 4 days.

It all went back to the moment when Maria had asked her to kiss her on the Quinjet. No, she hadn’t even asked. She’d practically _begged_ Natasha to kiss her, and it was the absolute last thing she wanted the lieutenant to do.

Maria Hill wasn’t supposed to _plead_. Whatever she wanted, she unapologetically _demanded_ for it.

And that’s why Natasha had turned her down. Because she didn’t want to kiss Maria when she was so utterly vulnerable.

At first, Natasha had almost not believed that Maria really wanted to kiss _her._ She couldn’t fathom what Maria had seen in her to possibly want her, but for that fleeting moment, she’d just wanted to stop resisting and capture the brunette’s quivering lips.

But Natasha hadn’t, knowing that it probably wouldn’t mean anything once the lieutenant was fully in her senses. She didn’t want it to be something like a drunken mistake that Maria would not even remember later. Or worse, regret.

(In reality, Natasha was terrified that kissing Maria would mean so much _more,_ to _her_. But she wasn’t going to admit that, even to herself.)

She hadn’t forgotten Maria’s hurt expression when she had voiced her refusal. It was as if the single word from Natasha’s mouth had caused her more pain than every other injury of hers.

And before she could have even explained herself, the Quinjet had docked onto the Helicarrier and the brunette had been whisked away by the med-staff.

But, all in all, Natasha had thought of it as the lesser of the evils: nip it in the bud right now and keep Maria (and herself) away from any pain later on.

But that didn’t help the fact that Natasha had still been very concerned about the woman, who had refused to stay in the infirmary even for a second longer than necessary. Because Natasha was well aware of Maria’s tendency of getting overly busy with her work and forgetting about herself. Plus, she was injured.

Natasha remembered sneaking around Maria’s quarters on the first day she was released. It had been so frustrating to watch the woman as she hobbled back and forth from the different offices, her jaw clenching and forehead creasing with determination.

Natasha had watched from a distance and her hands had inched out protectively every single time she’d seen the lieutenant stumble. Every movement had taken Maria so much effort, she would be trembling with exhaustion by the end of it. But the bull-headed woman just wouldn’t give up and let her body rest.

That first day had been too much for Natasha and she had consciously avoided being in places where she might run into Maria on the next day. She’d spent a good part of it at the gym, pummelling the punching bag, and then beating the crap out of Clint when they sparred.

Her wounded arm had barely hindered her as she’d landed blow after blow on the archer, as if it would’ve gotten rid of the helplessness that she was feeling. _Whoever said ‘out of sight, out of mind’ is a fucking idiot._

As they approached the conference room, Natasha realised that she was going to have to face the woman now, and she had absolutely no idea of how it was going to go. But she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

Impudence and arrogance had been her weapons where her widow’s bites hadn’t worked. And she knew she’d have to use them again right now, to save everyone the trouble. She’d let her guard down for a moment back there with Clint, but she wasn’t going to let that happen again.

With that resolution, Natasha – no, _Agent Romanoff_ – threw the door open as she sauntered in, the usual bounce in her step, a smirk on her lips, and boundless uncertainty in her heart.


	15. Saving Grace, Saving Face

## The Widow

Natasha noticed that Maria and Fury were the only ones in the room as she walked in, Clint following closely behind her.

It didn’t take her refined espionage skills to know that they were in the middle of some important discussion and had stopped talking right when she came in. Natasha didn’t bother asking what it was about; the Director’s blunt dismissal (“Above your clearance level, Romanoff!”) almost ringing in her mind.

Natasha saw that Maria was _standing_ beside the table, despite her fractured leg – and the broken ribs, and the knife wound – and she had the insane urge to personally push the woman into a chair so that she would sit.

But Natasha squashed it, noticing how the taller woman was deliberately avoiding meeting her gaze, and addressed Fury instead, “Decided to finally join the party, Director?”

Fury let out a huff at that, “Yeah, well, you kids were having way too much fun without me. I thought I might check in and, you know, throw a wet blanket.”

Even though the comment was meant as a joke, Natasha could see Maria wince at the words, as if they reminded her of something else. (And Natasha miserably failed at trying to make her heart not feel bad for the taller woman.)

“Anyway,” the Director said, clearing his throat, “Back to the mission. Agent Hill, you want to take over?”

Maria gave him a curt nod and launched into the debrief.

Natasha simply watched the taller woman as she delivered the sound report of all the important happenings, her voice firm and composed as she backed each incident with its explanations. For once, she and Clint paid attention too, catching on the bits that even they hadn’t known.

Fury listened intently, his face revealing no details about his thoughts, and waited for Maria to finish. He took a long pause once she was done, and Natasha could almost feel the nervousness rolling off in waves from the taller woman, despite her bravado.

“So, are you telling me,” the Director began after a while, glaring at the lieutenant, “That I almost lost my _best_ agents to some crazy, deluded scientist, only because _you_ didn’t bother to examine your strategies well enough?”

Natasha felt a tide of protectiveness surge through her, and she barely stopped herself from physically shielding Maria from Fury’s words. His tone wasn’t particularly harsh, but she had rarely heard him berate the lieutenant.

Maria kept her gaze glued to the floor and Natasha wanted to yell at her to speak up for herself. To tell Fury that it wasn’t entirely her fault.

But Natasha almost instinctively knew that even _Maria_ thought it was her own fault.

When the brunette didn’t respond, Fury simply sighed, “Well, at least tell me you’ve thought of what to do with those researchers you managed to extract.”

Maria finally looked up, “Yes, Sir,” she said, her tone only slightly shaky, “I actually have a plan to propose. And I’ve thought it through this time.”

The taller woman got busy in retrieving her tablet and skimming through some documents and she didn’t notice it. But Natasha managed to catch the ghost of a smile take over the Director’s face, like he didn’t expect any lesser from his lieutenant.

Maria opened one of the files, the contents getting projecting on the wall in front of them as she began, “Sir, this is one of the projects at S.H.I.E.L.D. that hasn’t been making advancements as fast as we want it to, primarily because of the lack of manpower.”

She gave some time for everyone in the room to scan through the words before continuing, “From what we’ve gathered, the rescued scientists actually specialise in this field,” the brunette said, pointing towards the images, and the rest vaguely nodded.

“The scientists had been trying to develop advanced warfare technology that could potentially augment our capabilities by a hundredfold,” Maria said emphatically, “The only problem was that their way of working didn’t really conform to the internationally mandated standards of safety.”

“But I believe that shouldn’t be a problem at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” the brunette said, and Fury gave her a nearly imperceptible smirk, understanding what Maria was trying to imply.

“So, I propose an alliance with the Syndicate,” Maria suggested, her voice strong and confident, unlike before, “That might not even be required, depending on whether the researchers are still a part of the group. In that case, we could directly absorb them into the R&D wing, and we could accelerate the progress of this project.”

“Sir, for quite some time now, you’ve been concerned about the human race being overpowered when it comes to extra-terrestrial attacks,” Maria added, “I think the outcome of this project could give us the weapons – and some semblance of a chance – to defend our kind better in the future.”

Fury didn’t give his response for a long time, but Natasha knew he’d been won over.

Hell, _she_ couldn’t believe just how brilliantly Maria had taken this almost pointless mission and turned it around into a solution for a seemingly forgotten problem. It was so characteristically _Hill,_ and yet, Natasha was blown away by the simple ingenuity _._

She didn’t even try to her hide her proud smile as she watched the lieutenant wait anxiously for the Director to speak. Finally dropping the tough-guy act, Fury let out a deep chuckle.

“Goddamn it, Hill,” he said, shaking his head appreciatively, “Submit the paperwork at my desk and start the recruitment process.”

Natasha saw Maria’s shoulders all but sag in relief, her beautiful eyes almost gleaming at Fury’s approval. The brunette’s lips turned up into a full-blown smile for a couple of seconds, and Natasha was reminded of just how breath-taking she looked like that.

The image stayed in Natasha’s mind for the rest of the meeting, where they ironed out other details.

* * *

“Romanoff!” Natasha heard Fury call out behind her just when she was about to all but flee from the conference room. She turned around and Fury merely beckoned her over with a crook of his finger.

“The rest,” he said looking at Clint and Maria, “Dismissed.”

Natasha watched them scurry out of the room at the order, both their faces having a strange, quizzical expression.

“So, Romanoff,” Fury began after a bit, once he was sure no one was going to intrude, “I had a little chat with Agent Hill, right before the debrief.”

Natasha immediately stiffened, “Sir, before you go on, is this on the record?”

“No, it isn’t, Natasha,” Fury smiled rather warmly, “This conversation is personal, to whatever extent. And so was the one I had with Hill.”

The Director watched Natasha’s face relax, knowing that the use of her first name would ease her worry, and spoke again, “So, anyway, as I was saying. I spoke to Hill and she told me about the exchange that happened between the two of you, just before she joined you with the Alpha team.”

Natasha almost flinched at that, the memory suddenly coming back to her. That conversation felt like ages ago. So much had happened between her and Maria ever since then, and the argument that had actually started the chain of events seemed to fade into the background. But she stayed quiet, knowing that nothing she said would really add any value.

“I asked Hill what made her fly down there when she knew that she had assigned perfectly capable agents, such as yourself, to the mission,” Fury said, getting straight to the point, “And surprisingly, she didn’t have a solid answer to that.”

He noted her curious expression before continuing, “Her only words of explanation were, and I quote, ‘I’m compromised when it comes to Agent Romanoff.’”

Natasha’s breath hitched as she heard the words. _What does that even mean? How could Hill_ , _of all the people, be compromised? And why would I be the cause of it._ Her mind was swirling with questions whose answers seemed to be right there, but she didn’t want to accept them.

Fury sighed at her confusion and went on, “Look, Natasha, I don’t think Hill completely understood what I said during the debrief.”

Natasha contemplated his statement for a bit and then smiled dryly, getting what he was referring to.

“Yeah, I don’t think she did,” she said, “She might not know it, but she, too, is one of the best agents we’ve got.”

“It would have been a major loss if something had gone wrong during the mission,” Fury agreed, his eye briefly shining with fondness.

Natasha found herself nodding sub-consciously at that, her wretched mind conjuring countless alternate scenarios where she’d ended up not being able to save the brunette. She blinked rapidly, as if it would stop the rampant thoughts.

Fury stepped forward and placed a firm hand on her arm, like he wanted to bring her out of the web she’d gotten caught in.

“I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you. And frankly, I don’t care,” the Director said, looking straight at Natasha, “But I need you to stop pushing her buttons.”

“Hill has been through some… _events,_ in her past, that have shaped the way she works,” Fury said, careful of his words, “She’s one of the few people who believes that just because you’re a soldier – in our case, an agent – doesn’t mean you’re life is dispensable. She knows all too well that her men are of much better use to her _alive_.”

“We’ve seen her go to extraordinary lengths to make sure that our agents return from their operations,” Fury added, and once again, Natasha could only nod.

“And at times, she’s been taken for granted because of that,” he said, looking pointedly at her.

“But I can’t have my finest tactician running around like a headless chicken every time an agent brazenly tries to disobey her!” the Director exclaimed.

His tone was strict and almost alarmed, and it took Natasha by surprise. Fury straightened up and took a deep breath, embarrassed at his little outburst.

“So, _Agent Romanoff,_ consider this an order, if that makes it easier for you to follow,” he said, his tall form looming over Natasha as he retracted his hand, “Stop challenging Hill at every opportunity you find.”

“She does what she does only because she wants to keep _you_ safe,” Fury said emphatically, and Natasha wished that he hadn’t indirectly meant _her,_ specifically.

“And I might not admit it nearly as often as I should,” he added, gathering his own gadgets from the table, “But I value my agents too. _All_ of them.”

Fury studied Natasha for a good 4 seconds, and then started walking towards the door, leaving Natasha to her thoughts.

“And Natasha?” he said, looking back at her one last time, “End your little game, before something else ends it for you.”

* * *

A few hours after the conversation with Fury, Natasha found herself standing in front of Hill’s office.

The plain, white door staring back at her reminded her of the fact that she had no idea what she was even doing there. Fury’s words had been on her mind for a long time, and before she’d known it, her feet had dragged her to Hill.

She was just about to turned around and walk away when the door was wrenched open, and Natasha was frozen on her spot, her face mere inches away from Maria’s as they stood in front of each other.

All Natasha had to do was tiptoe a little and she could cover the taller woman’s lips with her own, giving her the kiss she had been denied so heartbreakingly. But Natasha simply glanced away, burning under Maria’s intense gaze, and took a step back.

“Romanoff,” Maria said, before Natasha could make an excuse and escape, “Good thing I found you. I’ve been meaning to have a word with you,” she said, her voice surprisingly even.

Natasha swallowed her disappointment when Maria addressed her using her last name as she shuffled further into the office. She waited for the brunette to speak up again and watched her fidget around with some of the files on her desk. _Probably stalling._

An eternity seemed to have passed before Maria sighed and faced her, “I realise that we never got to talk about what happened – or rather, what _didn’t_ happen – during the operation.”

Despite the tension and awkwardness in the air, Natasha couldn’t help her wry smile when Maria didn’t bother with the small-talk. It was so typical of Hill to directly jump to the point, without beating around the bush.

“I just wanted to thank you for the way you… dealt with everything,” the brunette said, her gaze wavering just barely before meeting Natasha’s again.

Whatever Natasha had been imagining Maria would follow her first statement with, _thanking her_ was the absolute last thing. But she kept her expression neutral, partly because she didn’t want to interrupt Maria when she clearly had something more to say, and partly because she didn’t know how to respond to that.

“You took the lead at the time when nothing was clear,” Maria began, “There was a good chance of everything going up in flames, but you didn’t let that happen. Even with the vaguest information, you managed connect the dots and save the hostages,” she said, her tone filled with gratitude, “So, thank you for that.”

Natasha noticed how Maria didn’t mention rescuing her. Like her life was not worth saving, and bailing her out was just a fringe task that Natasha had managed to complete. Her whole self-deprecating demeanour was honestly beginning to grate on Natasha’s nerves.

“The mission was doomed from the very beginning. I-I should have seen it coming,” Maria went on, her voice almost strangled, “I can’t even begin to express how guilty I am for almost fucking everything up,” she said, shaking her head.

“When your comms line blanked out, I got paranoid and I assumed the worst of you,” Maria said, and Natasha could feel the underlying anger in her voice, “I let my impulse take over, and that ended up endangering the team.”

“I am incredibly sorry for that,” the brunette said, looking away.

With that, Natasha had had enough. She stepped forward and placed a firm hand over the taller woman’s arm, making her face her.

“ _No one_ is blaming you, Hill,” Natasha said emphatically, hoping that it would make Maria realise that even Fury wasn’t really holding her responsible for what had happened.

“If anything, _I_ was the one who drove you up the wall and made you lose it,” she added, making Maria’s face break out into a light chuckle, and Natasha couldn’t help but be surprised at its abruptness.

“You seem to enjoy doing that,” Maria said, the entrancing smile still tugging at her lips, “Literally and figuratively,” she added, an eyebrow raised suggestively, obviously alluding to their countless sparring sessions.

And this time, Natasha was the one to give in and laugh.

“But seriously,” Maria resumed once the laughter had fizzled out, “More than anything, I’m sorry for not trusting you to know what’s best. You’re one of the best agents at S.H.I.E.L.D., and I should have had the faith that you could handle yourself.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Natasha said in all seriousness. The brunette had given her the opening herself, and Natasha was going to take it, “Why did you come?”

At some other time, that would been an epic sex pun. But right now, Maria’s expression only froze, and she stared at Natasha blankly.

The brunette probably didn’t expect the sudden change of tone, but she quickly gathered herself, “I told you, your comms were down and I –”

“No,” Natasha cut her off, her eyes drilling into the taller woman’s, “Why did _you_ come?”

Maria shifted out of Natasha’s grip and schooled her features, “I don’t owe you an explanation,” she answered gruffly, her eyes briefly flashing with annoyance.

“Of course, you do, Hill,” Natasha countered, her own hackles rising, “Considering everything we had to go through to get to you.”

Maria fell quiet at that, her jaw clenching and unclenching in an attempt to not lash out. Natasha felt her irritation grow as she glared at the woman.

_Why can’t you just admit it?_

She didn’t even know _what_ she wanted Maria to admit. But she sure as hell didn’t want her to stay silent. The fight eventually left the taller woman and her shoulders sagged.

“It doesn’t matter why I came there, Romanoff,” Maria said, her voice ringing with dejection, “I’ve said what I wanted to say. You may leave now.”

Offering no more justification, Maria simply turned around as forcefully as her injured body allowed and grabbed a random file from her desk. Natasha knew that the deliberate way in which the woman was thumbing through the documents was cue for her to leave.

She had half a mind to pin the lieutenant against the wall yet again and demand an answer. But she didn’t, because even though she wanted to know, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

Frustrated at Maria _and_ herself, Natasha wheeled around on her heel and proceeded to storm out of the room, her boots clicking loudly against the floor.

“Thank you,” Maria said softly, making Natasha halt in her steps, just a few paces away from the door.

“Yes, you already said that,” Natasha snapped back, not even bothering to turn around and face the woman.

“I meant for rescuing me,” Maria said, and Natasha’s anger mellowed just a bit, “You’re right. I never would have made it out of there if you hadn’t come to get me.”

 _“_ You do realise that I could only do that because _you_ saved _my_ life before, right? _”_ Natasha said, whirling around to level the brunette with a harsh glare, “When you sent the Alpha team behind me into the forest?”

_And, not to mention, the knife wound that you’ve kept hidden behind that tac suit of yours – the one that’s making you wince every few minutes – which you got because you prevented me from getting stabbed._

But Maria just nodded dismissively, “I was just doing my job, Romanoff.”

Natasha seriously wanted to shake some sense into the woman. Was she even hearing herself? It wasn’t _her_ job to come down there and save Natasha; she could have just sent a team for that. And she definitely didn’t have to –

“And, uh,” Maria began, making Natasha focus on her again, “Thanks for everything you had to do after that… to keep me conscious,” she said quietly, and Natasha could almost feel the sheer effort it took for her to let out those words.

She noticed the way Maria’s free hand was clenched into a tight fist, like it was taking everything she had to not squirm nervously. Natasha realised that they were finally going to address the elephant in the room. And she wasn’t ready for that.

“Yeah, well, I was just doing my job,” Natasha replied out of habit, and saw Maria’s lips thin into a line.

Normally, she would enjoy throwing the lieutenant’s words back at her, and watching the woman grin in appreciation at the perfect timing and context of the jab. But right now, it was just annoying.

So. Fucking. Annoying. For both of them.

“I’m glad you didn’t kiss me,” Maria said eventually, going in straight for the kill.

The brunette’s voice was firm and detached, as if she was really unaffected, “I’m sorry for putting you in that position. I would never want you to do anything you’re truly not comfortable doing, even if it is for the mission.”

Natasha was correcting her before she could stop herself, “No, that’s not –”

“It’s okay, Romanoff. You don’t need to explain yourself,” Maria said, her tone not rude, despite having interrupted Natasha.

“It was a moment of weakness," the brunette added, her features briefly twitching with humiliation, "And I wasn’t exactly in the condition to know that I was being presumptuous."

And that’s when Natasha understood. Maria was thinking that she turned her down because she didn’t like her.

_Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong._

Natasha was just about to open her mouth to tell Maria just how mistaken she was when Fury’s voice echoed in her mind.

_“I’m compromised when it comes to Agent Romanoff.”_

Natasha stayed quiet and observed the brunette as she maintained the mask of composure when she spoke again, “I hope we can move past this, and that it would not affect our professional dynamic in the future.”

It was almost convincing, the lieutenant’s façade. Except for the little flicker of hurt in her eyes. Natasha realised, right then, that it was best to humour Maria’s assumption. She’d gotten dangerously close to the brunette, and she desperately needed to create a rift. It was just easier that way. It would keep Maria away from the pain. It would keep her safe.

_Anything to keep you safe._

Natasha simply nodded and walked out of the room. And even though she didn’t spare a single glance towards the taller woman, she knew those blue orbs were going to haunt her for nights to come.


	16. What Do You Want?

## The Soldier

It was nearly a month after that damn mission that Maria was cleared to go the gym.

And she couldn’t be more grateful. Between dealing with her newly realised feelings for Natasha and handing the billion operations going on, she’d been going stir-crazy without her trusty release.

After the first few days of embarrassingly juvenile pining, Maria had somewhat gotten a hold of herself. She’d meant what she had said about the ‘Incident’ not changing anything between her and Natasha.

And it would have worked according to Maria’s plan, and she could have locked it all away into the deep recesses of her mind where she stashed the lowest points of her life.

Except, Maria forgot about the fact that Natasha didn’t function according to anyone’s plan. On the field, maybe – if she’s in the mood – but never otherwise.

After their chat in her office, the redhead had pointedly started ignoring Maria. And not in a fluttery way, like she was nervous to face Maria. It was more deliberate and almost mean, like she was intentionally trying to push Maria away.

If they ever ended up in the break room at the same time, Natasha would glance at her customarily, as if she were just another random stranger walking into the room, and then go back to whatever she was doing. If Maria was lucky, she would also add in a blink of her eyes.

During the times that they’d actually had to talk to each other, Natasha’s words had been all but snarky and sarcastic, nothing like their usual banter. And Maria _missed_ it. She didn’t fully realise it until they stopped, but bickering with Natasha was thrilling in its own way. It was like bungee jumping; you know you’re falling, but you also know you aren’t going to fall.

Maria couldn’t pin-point the exact reason for this change in the spy. She’d had an inkling, but her mind had trampled the idea before even exploring it. Because she couldn’t deal with the consequences of her being wrong. Her heart wasn’t strong enough to handle another blow.

And so, Maria simply went along with Natasha’s behaviour, neither getting riled up, like she knew the Russian wanted her to, nor questioning it. She staunchly maintained indifference _(professionalism)_ , keeping her irritation at bay every time.

The only thing that was even remotely good about the whole situation was that at least Natasha was listening to her in matters related to her missions.

The redhead had been sent on two ops since their last one together, and even though they’d both gone FUBAR to some degree, Natasha had followed Maria’s orders and exfiltration plans to whatever extent that she could.

Which was why Maria was so pissed with herself when Natasha had returned with a dislocated shoulder from the first mission, and a broken nose from the second, just a couple of days ago.

Despite checking and doublechecking (and triple checking) _all_ of her strategies – the main ones and the backup ones – Maria hadn’t been able to identify the threats and help Natasha neutralise them beforehand. And she knew the spy was more than capable of handling them as they came, but that didn’t mean she _had_ to.

Maria couldn’t help but feel like it was her fault that the redhead had come back injured. And she knew it was irrational to think that way. They were agents and agents got hurt. But fuck, if her heart could understand that.

And Maria had had no choice but to just send the extraction team, sit on her ass – literally – and watch the events unfold on the various monitors from the Helicarrier’s control room.

And then _hear_ them during the debriefing of each of the missions. Listen to the fables of Natasha’s bravery and tact as the spy would give her report, her face blooming with triumph and the damned smirk that drove Maria crazy.

On both occasions, Maria had been utterly torn between decking the redhead in her face and kissing the devilish grin right off it. Honestly, that dilemma had become the new constant in Maria’s life.

It was insane, really, how much she still wanted Natasha. In spite of all the crap she was giving her. With each interaction (or lack thereof), Maria had found herself wrestling with the urge to just take the woman’s lips so that she would _shut up._

And even when they hadn’t been talking, Maria could have sworn the minx had been trying to egg her on. With her magnetic eyes, and the sway of her hips, and the swell of her –

_Fuck. I need to get laid._

TLDR: Maria had reached the peak of her frustration. Sexual and non-sexual. And she’d had no way of dealing with her little snafu. But that was going to change now. Because she could go to the gym. She could direct all the raging vexation towards something. _Finally,_ she thought, eyeing the punching bag _._

Maria’s leg had just healed, and she snorted at herself when she took too long to get geared up. She didn’t bother with the gloves and just stuck to the hand wraps. She wanted to feel the blows as much as possible.

Maria got started after a short warm-up, revelling in the familiar rush of adrenaline as she tried the first tentative punches. Surprisingly, her muscles didn’t feel as sore as she had expected them to. And within a few minutes, Maria had a reached a good rhythm as she pounded away at the bag.

Her blows got more and more vigorous as she channelled all her disgruntlement into her fists, impatient to even wait for the bag to swing back to her. She ignored the dull ache in her leg as she bounced lightly with each punch, drops of sweat falling onto the floor beside her.

_Natasha. Fucking. Romanoff. Get. Out. Of. My. Head._

“Hey there, hot stuff.”

Maria just barely managed to catch the bag before it crashed into her as her eyes searched for the intruder. It was absurdly late at night (more like the next morning) and she wasn’t expecting any company at the gym.

But she wasn’t surprised when she spotted Natasha leaning casually against the wall at the entrance, her arms crossed over her torso. Her nose had a small bandage on it, but it didn’t make her look any less ravishing in that tight workout attire that she was in. And Maria had to curb the sudden wave of desire at the sight of the woman's sinful curves. 

“Not bad for someone who couldn’t even walk straight until a week ago,” the spy said, and even from the distance, Maria could see her eyebrow cocked up arrogantly.

Natasha dropped her arms to her sides and started walking – fucking _sashaying –_ towards Maria. But despite the crooked smile on the redhead’s lips, Maria managed to notice her slightly bloodshot eyes and the somewhat tussled hair, like she’d run her hands through it repeatedly before smoothening it.

Maria’s hand on the punching bag curled into a fist, and whatever curt reply she was going to give the spy died on her lips. Because she just knew that Natasha had just been awoken by a nightmare.

Maria simply focused her attention back on the bag and resumed punching. She wasn’t going to entertain Natasha’s taunts – or the infuriating woman herself – right now.

But, of course, Natasha continued approaching her and stopped only when she was _right beside_ Maria, making it impossible to ignore her.

_Lovely._

“It’s a shame the bag can’t fight back,” Natasha said, her mocking tone lined with just a bit of wistfulness, as if she were talking more to herself than to Maria.

Gritting her teeth, Maria punched with a renewed force, pissed at herself for catching those tiny details about the Russian.

“Doesn’t give you the pleasure of slamming someone onto the mat,” Natasha added cockily, “And watching the defeat on their face.”

Maria knew it was a cover for her earlier slip-up, but she couldn’t help her growl when she saw the redhead sneer in her peripheral vision. She gave the bag one final punch and then stopped it with the palm of her hand before turning to face the woman.

“If you want something, Romanoff,” she snapped, “You’re going to have to spell it out.”

Maria pretended to not see the way Natasha’s eyes darkened for a bit, and then looked away when her gaze started to linger on the shorter woman’s lips. But Natasha simply tilted her head, grinning at her like Cheshire cat.

And Maria realised she’d just walked into the trap.

“Well, what I _want,_ ” Natasha began, leaning forward, her voice edging towards sultry, “Can be better enjoyed when there’s _two_ people doing it.”

Maria forced herself to keep her expression neutral. Although, internally, she was totally thrown off by the redhead’s blatant proposition.

She was briefly hit by the nostalgia of the time before _the_ mission, when she would enjoy the flirty backtalk. But she wasn’t going to fall for it this time. And so, she maintained the stern look, waiting for Natasha to take back her words.

The shorter woman returned the glare for a bit, her eyes glimmering with mischief, and then finally laughed.

“Relax, _Agent,_ ” the redhead said, the damned grin still on her face, “I meant _sparring._ ”

Maria tried her best to not appear flustered at Natasha’s play of words. Honestly, the woman was just starting to piss her off with her flippant insolence.

She glowered at Natasha, even taking a daring step towards her, “You’re on.”

Natasha’s smirk disappeared for just a second before she strutted off towards the sparring ring, and Maria smiled to herself. That was going to be her _only_ win that night. Because, as always, Natasha was going to kick her ass in the ring. Maria was a great fighter, but her skills hardly equalled the Black Widow’s.

And though she was outclassed, Maria knew that the blows she would manage to land were going to be hell of a lot satisfying.

* * *

After just about 5 minutes in the sparring ring, Maria had worked up her muscles more than she had in her entire time with the punching bag. And they hadn’t even gotten _really_ started yet.

Maria knew it from the way Natasha was almost toying with her, purposely aiming half-assed punches that Maria easily dodged. As always, they had lowered the enclosure around the sparring ring, and they were making good use of the added space as they danced around each other.

Of course, Maria was taking her time herself. It had been a while since she had sparred with the spy, and she didn’t want to bite the dust just yet. But the stalling eventually got annoying and Maria was forced to point it out.

“If you hold back on me, Romanoff,” she growled, “I _will_ make you redo all your sloppy paperwork.”

Natasha’s face broke out into a full-blown smile, its radiance making Maria’s heart flutter like that of a stupid teenager. But the redhead curbed it soon – too soon, if Maria would ever admit it – and pursed her lips together.

“I was just waiting for you to get warmed up,” Natasha replied playfully, her fists dropping out of her fighting stance, “Wouldn’t want you to complain that I didn’t give you enough time to be prepared.”

With that, the Russian lunged towards Maria.

Despite everything, Maria wasn’t ready for it, and she found herself being tackled to the floor. But she wasn’t going to give up so easily, and she managed to kick off the shorter woman as the two went down.

Maria was up and in position almost immediately, her fists ready in front of her as she watched Natasha roll and get to her feet gracefully in front of her. The redhead walked towards Maria carefully, blowing out a breath to steady herself.

And then suddenly, Natasha bent down and swept her leg in her half circle with almost impossible speed, hoping to trip Maria. Somehow jumping backwards, Maria managed to avoid faceplanting onto the floor and promptly straightened herself.

The redhead had learnt the move from Maria – one of the few moves _she’d_ been able to teach the Black Widow – but Maria was impressed at how the Russian had pulled it off while being in an inherently standing position.

Natasha quickly stood up to follow it with a punch to her gut, but Maria caught the fist that she’d seen coming in the air. Maria held the redhead’s hand in a vice-like grip, fully aware that she could break her arm if she wanted to. She also knew that the Russian was going to launch another blow in about _minus_ 2 seconds.

It was literally a split-second decision before Maria chose to simply whirl Natasha away with all her strength, making the shorter woman stumble back several steps.

Natasha regained her balance quickly and shot Maria a smirk, amused at the impromptu manoeuvre, before stalking towards her slowly. As she got closer, Maria could make out the gleam in the woman’s eyes, and she clenched her own fists tighter.

Her pulse quickened as she felt the fear that Natasha’s targets must have inevitably felt before the assassin delivered the coup de grâce. And even though this was just a friendly (ish?) match between them, Maria couldn’t help the shiver of the dread that coursed through her.

“That all you got?” Maria huffed, all bravado, “I was told that the Black Widow fought to kill.”

She realised her mistake just as the words left her lips.

Maria saw Natasha’s eyes harden almost instantly, and she felt a stab of guilt. The bandage on the bridge of the redhead’s nose twitched as her nostrils flared with rage. Her lips twisted into a sneer and she charged towards Maria with a growl.

Natasha attacked her with a ferocity that Maria couldn’t possibly counter, raining blow after blow upon her. Her punches were no longer controlled, the way they usually kept them during such training sessions, almost as if she was considering this a real fight.

Maria’s mind was on autopilot, dodging and blocking the hits that she could, but Natasha was barely even waiting in between two blows. And Maria found herself being pushed backwards, unable to keep up with the redhead’s pace.

At some point, Maria managed to sidestep a roundhouse kick, but Natasha completed the spin as her foot landed on the floor and used the momentum of the turn to land a powerful punch to her ribs. The force threw Maria back a few steps, completely knocking the breath out of her and making her double over in pain.

Maria used the distance to regroup before slowly straightening herself and looking at the Russian. Natasha had dropped her hands and her chest was heaving as she glared at Maria, her jaw clenched tightly. Her fists curled and uncurled beside her, like she couldn’t decide between letting Maria catch her breath or just attacking her regardless.

But even amidst the fire in the Russian’s eyes, Maria could see the hurt. And she cursed herself for being the cause of it. Maria had rarely called Natasha by the infamous handle, and she had _never_ used it as a taunt. And she hadn’t wanted to, especially after everything Natasha had shared with her on the Quinjet.

“I’m sorry, Romanoff,” Maria wheezed, “I didn’t mean –”

“Save it, Hill,” the Russian bit out, “You told me to not hold back,” she snarled, raising her fists in front of her again, “And the Black Widow _never_ does.”

This time when Natasha came at her, Maria didn’t even try to block the punch that caught her in the shoulder. Her body was aching from Natasha’s strikes, but Maria stuck to the defensive side, only making her own moves when it was really required. And even then, she kept her hits light. She didn’t want to hurt Natasha any more than she already had.

Natasha aimed a punch to Maria’s collar bone, but Maria parried it aside and tried to land a blow to the woman’s arm. But Natasha predicted it and gripped her hand, whirling her around as she twisted it. She jammed it painfully into Maria’s back, a feral growl escaping her lips as she held Maria in that position.

Biting back a curse, Maria drove her other elbow backwards into Natasha’s gut, giving her just enough time to break free and turn around to aim a punch at the Russian’s face. But Maria’s fist stopped mid-air, her eyes softening at the sight of the bandage on Natasha’s nose.

But her restraint only made the shorter woman angrier, and she slammed her fist against the side of Maria’s lips.

“Why won’t you fucking hit back, Hill?” Natasha growled.

“Because I never signed up for a fight with the Black Widow,” Maria rasped, wiping the blood off her face, and saw the Russian’s face contort with fury.

“When I walked into this ring,” Maria continued carefully, trying to keep her tone even, “I thought I was going to spar with Natasha Romanoff – _Agent_ Natasha Romanoff,” she said, hoping to convey that she remembered and _valued_ everything that Natasha had told her.

But it only seemed to piss Natasha off even more, and she shoved Maria back against the wall a few feet behind her, pinning her wrists beside her head, “Then why did you say that?”

And despite the rage, Maria was caught off guard by the emotion in that question.

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered, desperate to soothe the redhead, “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t thinking when I said it. I guess, I’ve just been really worked up ever since that mission,” Maria rambled, her mind a frenzy of thoughts, “Nothing has been okay after that op, and I’ve just been so frustrated, and I fucking _need_ to get laid and –”

Maria shut her eyes and pursed her lips at what she’d ended up blurting out.

_Way to fucking go, Hill._

She willed for the redhead to be gone by the time she opened them, but the firm hands pushing her wrists against the wall reminded her that her wish wasn’t going to come true.

Maria gathered every iota of her self-esteem and opened her eyes, only to find the smirk back on Natasha’s face.

The redhead’s eyes were no longer cold when they darted towards Maria’s lips, her thumbs stroking Maria’s wrists lazily. Almost as if she hadn’t nearly beaten the living daylights out of Maria just a minute ago.

“You should have told me that’s what you wanted all this time,” Natasha all but purred, her eyes locking with Maria’s, “I wouldn’t have bothered with the foreplay.”

“That’s not –” Maria paused to gather her thoughts, her mind reeling from the change in the tone, “I’m fine. I _don’t_ want that.”

“Are you sure?” Natasha countered, tiptoeing to come close to Maria’s ear before whispering, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Maria tried her best to stay unaffected by how the lack of distance made their chests touch. She really did. But despite the years of training, her body betrayed her, visibly shuddering at the sound of Natasha’s silky voice.

“Yes, I’m sure, _Agent_ ,” Maria bit out, affecting as much resolve in her tone as she could, “I don’t want you.”

Natasha’s smirk faltered for just a bit before she recovered, “It would be a hell of a lot more convincing if you weren’t shivering at my touch, _Agent Hill_.”

Maria stuck to glaring at the redhead as she tried to steady her pulse. Even though she wasn’t going to admit it, she knew Natasha was right. She’d already embarrassed herself enough, and there was nothing she could say or do that wouldn’t make her look more like an idiot.

Encouraged by Maria’s silence, Natasha angled her hips, her leg pushing Maria’s thighs apart.

“Why’re you resisting it?” the redhead murmured, sliding her own thigh higher up against Maria’s oh-so-slowly.

It took all of her self-control, but Maria managed to suppress her whimper. Natasha didn’t stop, though, and watched Maria intently as the friction made her breath quicken.

“Just say the word, Hill,” the Russian hummed, her voice raking over Maria’s skin like daggers, “Say the word, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Maria’s eyes flared with rage. Summoning all her strength, she pushed Natasha’s hands away, breaking free from her hold.

“Fucking hell, Romanoff,” she growled.

If Natasha was startled by the sudden thrust, she didn’t show it, and continued to sneer at Maria.

_Would you believe the fucking nerve?_

“Was this your game all along?” Maria spat out, “Get me all riled up so that I’d end up venting my frustration? And then what?” she thundered, taking a menacing step towards the shorter woman, “You’d swoop in and offer to make it all go away?”

The smirk was finally off Natasha’s face as she tentatively approached Maria, “Relax, Hill, I know –”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Romanoff!” Maria cut her off, her voice trembling with fury.

“If you think that just because I asked you to kiss me that one time, I would grovel at your feet for a sympathy fuck, then you don’t know me at all!” Maria all but roared, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving with anger.

Natasha’s eyes widened at that, almost as if she was regretting what she’d said. But Maria was too livid to notice it.

“Let me make this clear, Romanoff,” she said, her voice low and threatening, _“I. Don’t. Want. You.”_

With that, Maria simply walked past her towards the exit, deliberately shoving Natasha’s shoulder with her own as she stalked away, her strides long and unyielding.

She’d covered a fair distance when Natasha’s voice made her halt in her tracks, “You’re lying.”

Maria wanted to turn around and yell at the woman, but something about Natasha’s tone made her stop. It was firm and clear. She wasn’t asking or insinuating; she was merely stating a fact.

“I’ve seen you around the ship, Hill,” Natasha continued, making Maria face her, “You’ve been running yourself into the ground with all the missions you’re hell-bent on micromanaging,” she said, walking towards Maria.

“You _are_ exhausted, and you _are_ frustrated,” the redhead added, her eyes bold, daring Maria to counter her, “And you _do_ want me.”

“But I can understand if you don’t wish to follow through with it. Not everybody will be comfortable under the hand that has taken so many lives,” Natasha laughed humourlessly.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re most definitely _not_ ‘fine.’ And you need to sort your shit before it starts affecting your work,” the Russian finished, her lips thinning into a line, her gaze flickering for just a second.

Normally, any comment about her competence would have incensed Maria to no end. But somehow, the way Natasha had said it made her fall quiet. Despite her outward defiance, Natasha’s eyes looked vulnerable and possibly even _hurt,_ as if she was stung by the fact that she couldn’t give Maria what she needed _._

Maria saw Natasha’s gaze eventually drop to the floor, and she wished she could comfort the redhead and tell her how wrong she was. Wished she could tell her just how badly she wanted her. Wanted to _be with her._

In some alternate reality, Maria would have. But it simply wasn’t the way her life worked here. All the fight and anger drained out of Maria, the weeks of physical and mental fatigue wearing on her bones.

“I wasn’t lying, Romanoff,” she sighed tiredly, making Natasha look up.

“I don’t _want_ you. I just don’t want to _lose_ you,” Maria breathed and instantly shut her eyes, mortified at her admission.

The statement was as vague as it was true, and she didn’t know what Natasha would make of it.

When she opened her eyes, she’d half expected the redhead to be gone. But Natasha was rooted right at her spot, her lips slightly parted, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The redhead eventually got a hold of herself and looked away, but Maria saw the way her eyes had almost glazed over.

Natasha simply nodded absently and started walking, her gaze not meeting Maria’s as she passed her and proceeded towards the exit. But Maria didn’t move, didn’t make any effort to follow the shorter woman, and hung her head helplessly.

“You can’t lose that which you haven’t got, Hill,” Natasha’s quiet voice made Maria’s head whip in her direction.

The redhead was standing right near the door, her back facing Maria, like she didn’t want Maria to see her expression. And Maria’s shoulders sagged when Natasha disappeared from her sight as she walked out of the gym. As she walked out _on_ _her._

The sheer weight of their conservation was making Maria’s body ache more than the bruises. She stood there, alone and defeated, the sleek, grey walls around her completely contrasting the mess that her life had become.

_“I already have.”_


	17. More Than She Knows

## The Widow

Natasha was nursing her third cup of coffee in the cafeteria that morning as she listened to Clint yammer on about some cool thing that happened somewhere when he was doing something.

With the dreams and the intense match with Hill – the verbal one – she had barely gotten any sleep last night. But their confrontation had made Natasha realise just how wrong she had been for the past month.

Their talk after the debriefing had confirmed the fact that Maria had started feeling… _something_ for her. Something that went way beyond just physical attraction. Something that was real and intense. And Natasha had thought that by intentionally driving Maria away, she could squash those feelings. Make Maria realise just how much trouble she was.

But it had gone wrong in every way imaginable, culminating in last night’s grand finale.

Natasha had observed Maria’s disgruntlement snowball over the month. The brunette’s usually self-assured and sorted face now sported a perpetual frown. Whether it was the physical therapy exercises, or mission plans, Maria had seemed constantly dissatisfied with herself.

(It was a little unsettling how much Natasha noticed and cared about the woman, but that was a whole other rabbit hole).

And even though Natasha had guessed that _she_ might be part of the reason for it, she had kept up with her snarky attitude.

But she’d still wanted – _needed –_ to help the brunette. Natasha had known all too well that Maria needed a release for all her pent-up frustration. She’d known it when she’d found the brunette mercilessly pummelling the punching bag last night (this morning).

Which was why she’d thought it would be a fair idea to indulge in some good old-fashioned sparring with the taller woman. No one else was even nearly as competitive as Maria, and going toe-to-toe with the lieutenant gave Natasha a rush more exquisite than downing a whole bottle of vodka.

But then, things had taken a dark turn – no, _Natasha_ had let things take a dark turn – and it had all blown up in both their faces.

Natasha had obviously known that Maria hadn’t meant what she said in a derisive manner, when she’d called her by the name she’d earned because of the Red Room. And yet, she’d had gone and almost beaten the taller woman to pulp because of it.

And she’d gotten even madder when Maria had stopped retaliating, taking every painful blow that Natasha had launched at her without so much as a sound. Everything had just gone south after that.

Natasha was regretting every second of it right now. Especially the part when she had ended up making Maria feel so utterly humiliated. She had failed to see what her suggestion would sound like to the lieutenant, and she’d insulted the very person who had always treated her honourably. She honestly didn’t know what had possessed her at that time to act out like that.

And she remembered their conversation after that; every bit of it. Even the part that Maria hadn’t been able to say to her face.

Natasha had overheard it when she’d stopped outside the gym to gather herself, hidden from the brunette’s view. She’d listened to Maria’s broken voice as she had made the quiet confession, and she had simply bolted, unable to take it any longer.

Because she had realised just how far gone she was, herself.

Natasha couldn’t believe the hold she had over Maria. The hold _Maria_ had over _her._ She had only then been able to see the true depth of her own feelings for the woman. And it was absolutely terrifying.

She’d never felt this protective of someone before, wanting to take away the brunette’s pain even though she knew she was woefully incapable doing it. And so, Natasha had been fully convinced that it was best to stay away from Maria.

Because clearly, the only thing the brunette needed to be protected from was Natasha herself.

So, Natasha would keep her distance. More resolutely than ever. She wouldn’t give Maria what she wanted. She knew just how much she could hurt the taller woman, more than just physically. And didn’t ever want to that, even inadvertently.

Sometimes, just making promises you can’t keep is worse than actually breaking them.

* * *

_Natasha found herself in a dimly lit room, her bounded target standing a few feet away from her._

_Her fingers tightened around the gun in her hand as she started walking towards the woman, the sound of Natasha’s boots slicing through the silence startling her awake._

_The woman lifted her head up fully once Natasha was close enough, the blood from a gash beside her brow dripping onto the floor. Her hands were trembling from being tied above her and her breath came out in slow rasps._

_But her eyes were clear despite the pain._

_“Kill her, Natalia.”_

_Natasha raised her hands reflexively at the command and cocked her gun, the muzzle aimed right above the woman’s heart. But the blue eyes never wavered. The woman – her target – didn’t look even the least bit scared for her life as she stared at Natasha almost longingly._

_“Do it,” the woman spoke, her voice brittle but sure, “I’ll know – and I want you to know too – that it’s not your fault,” she said, stepping forward so that the gun was pressed into her chest, “It was never your fault.”_

_Natasha recognised the words from another lifetime. But she wasn’t able to stop herself when her finger pulled the trigger._

_She watched impassively as a pained smile took over the woman’s face, even as the blood trickled out of her mouth. It stayed on her lips until her head lolled over and her body went limp._

Natasha shot out of the bed, her heart racing and her legs threatening to buckle as she stood up and wobbled. Black spots danced in front of her eyes while her body adjusted to the sudden movement. Her shirt was drenched in sweat and she was finding it difficult to just breathe.

She found a set of firm hands trying to push her back onto the mattress, and her mind started panicking all over again. Her vision hadn’t cleared yet, but she lashed out nevertheless, her lips letting out a helpless cry when her fist collided with bone.

But the hands over her shoulders left only for a second before they were back, on her wrists this time, holding them tightly. Natasha tried to break free, but her quivering body had no strength to overcome the vice-like grip. She realised only then that her nails were digging into her own palm. She stopped struggling and concentrated on steadying her breath.

The hands holding hers loosened after a bit, and Natasha could feel tremors going all the way up her arms and shoulder blades, the phantom sensation of the gun’s recoil still fresh on her skin. A whimper escaped her lips and before she knew it, Natasha was pulled into a hug.

It was gentle and healing, as opposed to what she had expected, and Natasha all but sagged into the warm body, her hand grabbing a fistful of the shirt under it.

She had no idea how long she was in that position, sobs wracking her already exhausted body, before the fog in her mind started to clear. Only then did she notice the hand tenderly cupping the back of her head, and another one draped securely across her waist. It was the sole thing keeping Natasha upright.

Her cries subsided, a whole lifetime later, and Natasha finally noticed the lips brushing softly against her ear, whispering to her in Russian. The words were fluent and confident, but they sounded strange coming from that voice.

Natasha recognised that voice. She’d just heard it a few minutes ago. She pulled back from the embrace and found deep, blue orbs looking back at her, an ocean of worry in them.

The same eyes that she’d coldly watched the life drain out of.

Natasha jerked out of the hold and staggered backwards, her legs catching the edge of her bed, making her fall onto it. But Maria was by her side in a flash, squatting down to reach her level as her hands hovered over Natasha.

“Don’t touch me!” Natasha rasped, her voice barely above a hiss.

Maria retracted her hands immediately, as if burnt, and Natasha saw the hurt ripple across her face. She expected the woman to get up and walk away, but Maria didn’t move. She simply stayed in the crouched position, her face angled away from Natasha’s and her eyes glued to the floor.

She was just within Natasha’s reach, offering herself in case Natasha needed it. Another wave of sobs threatened to take over Natasha at the gesture, but she somehow pushed it down, the rickety breaths grating her throat.

Once she had blinked back the tears, she saw Maria’s pinched expression. A bruise that hadn’t been there even after their sparring session from the previous night was blooming across the brunette’s clenched jaw.

Natasha reached out to touch the sensitive skin, her fingers shaking as her thumb rubbed soothing circles over the wound. Maria’s head instantly whipped towards her, her hand inching out to hold Natasha’s but stopping just before making contact.

The images from her dream were still vivid in Natasha’s mind, and she screwed her eyes shut to block them out. She’d had many, _many,_ nightmares in the past, but they had never featured the brunette. And this was, by far, the most extreme reaction she’d had post-dream.

Natasha continued the ministrations on Maria’s cheek, needing the touch to reassure herself that she was alive. That she hadn’t killed her. But the visions kept assaulting her mind, and Natasha felt an invisible garrotte curling around her throat, choking her.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me, please,” Maria hummed, “I’m right here. You’re right here.”

If only the woman knew just how liberating those words were.

Maria had gone past her initial hesitation and her hand was covering Natasha’s on her jaw, her fingers slowly running across Natasha’s inner wrist to comfort her. She kept repeating the words and Natasha realised that she’d been whispering the same thing earlier in Russian.

Natasha let the soothing voice wash over her, the gentle, but firm cadence of Maria’s tone lulling her out of her own torment. And it was many deep breaths later that Natasha finally found the strength to speak.

“Is that the only thing you know how to say in Russian?” she croaked, her throat raw and dry.

Maria quickly got up and crossed the room to fetch her a glass of water. And even though she desperately needed the drink, Natasha nearly whimpered at the loss of contact. But Maria was back immediately, resuming her earlier stance near Natasha’s bed.

Natasha observed the woman over the glass as she downed the water thirstily. Despite the concern shining in her blue eyes, there was a small, relieved smile tugging at her lips. Maria patiently waited for Natasha to finish drinking before the stashing the glass away.

“Trust you to mock me even after having a nightmare,” the brunette said, her eyes softening at Natasha’s dishevelled state.

“ _Welcome back,_ ” the taller woman added, in Russian this time.

And despite everything, Natasha grinned back at Maria, drawing strength from that warm smile the brunette was still shooting her way. They stayed like that for a while, drinking each other in, both revelling in the fact that the other one was _here_ and alright.

The spell was broken when Natasha saw a nearly imperceptible twitch on Maria’s face.

She realised that Maria’s knees must be killing her after being crouched for so long. In another era, Natasha would have waited it out, tested the tolerance of the proud woman before she broke and begrudgingly expressed her discomfort. She could almost picture herself gloating in her mind.

But right now, Natasha couldn’t possibly do that to Maria. To the woman who had held her while she’d been all but falling apart. The woman who had made her feel cherished and safe. _So unwaveringly safe._

She patted the mattress beside her, silently inviting the taller woman. Maria smiled wider before straightening up and taking her place near Natasha.

Natasha turned herself to face the brunette before speaking, “When did you learn?”

“It’s been a while,” Maria said, shrugging offhandedly.

_Damned woman, being evasive as hell._

Natasha changed her strategy, pressing on further, “ _Why_ did you learn?”

Maria actually let out a chuckle at that, the tinkling sound almost echoing in the night.

“Pray tell me, Romanoff,” the brunette began, “What have I done to deserve this interrogation?”

Natasha immediately stiffened at that, “Nothing,” she mumbled, “You haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

 _You deserve better,_ Natasha wanted to say. But she kept quiet, letting her gaze drop to the floor.

“Hey, I meant that as a joke,” Maria replied, her voice tight, as if _she_ had made a mistake, “I can tell you, if you still want to know,” she added gently, making Natasha look up at her expectantly.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Maria started, “When you joined S.H.I.E.L.D., you’d told me it was a beautiful language. I happened to have shared the sentiment and decided to give it a whirl,” she said casually, “That’s it.”

It would have been _it,_ except for the way in which Maria’s eyes were periodically flickering away from Natasha’s. The movement would have been unnoticeable to anyone else, but Natasha had her sharp skills to thank for catching it. And she remembered saying that to Maria. But she also knew there was more to it than just that.

“Come on, Hill,” Natasha said, her voice surprisingly light and relaxed, “I’d also told you that the Russian Qualude was a ‘beautiful’ drink. You most definitely did _not_ give that a whirl,” she said, a grin threatening to break out on her face when she saw Maria wrinkle her nose in disgust.

“Tell me,” Natasha requested, softly this time, her hand tugging Maria’s before she locked eyes with her.

The brunette finally gave in with a sigh, “It does go back to the time when you’d just come to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she began, her gaze dropping to their entwined hands.

“During the initial days, when you’d wake up from the nightmares, you would only speak in Russian. Would only respond when spoken to in Russian,” the taller woman explained, and the realisation dawned upon Natasha.

“It was the only way to calm you down,” Maria said simply, finally looking up to face Natasha.

Natasha tried to stay unaffected. She was _not_ going to be touched by that. Wasn’t going to let the brunette weasel her way into her heart any further than she already had.

But she was getting tired. So damned tired of Maria’s generosity. It wasn’t even a favour that she couldn’t repay, at this point. It was a burden that she couldn’t even carry.

“I haven’t had to use this trick in a long time, though,” Maria was still speaking, “It was a pretty rough one this time, huh?”

Natasha could only nod in response. Maria had caught her after a nightmare on a few occasions earlier as well. But she’d never seen Natasha in this state before. So utterly broken and vulnerable.

She looked up and saw that the brunette wasn’t facing her, her lips curved up in a sad, apologetic smile, the bruise on her jaw twitching at the movement.

Natasha’s hand reached forward on its own accord, but she stopped it before it touched Maria’s face. She let the hand drop, tugging at Maria’s shirt instead.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha murmured.

Maria lowered her head to look at the fist pulling at her shirt.

“No, no, it’s okay,” the brunette said quickly, gesticulating wildly towards the wet stain on the material where Natasha had rested her head earlier and cried.

The lieutenant looked so adorably flustered; Natasha just couldn’t help her smile. She let go of her inhibitions and raised her hand to cup the brunette’s cheek, slowly leaning towards Maria, giving her enough time to back away if she wanted to. But Maria only shut her eyes and stayed still.

She opened them only when she felt Natasha’s warm breath wash over her lips.

“Don’t,” the brunette whispered, making Natasha freeze, “I don’t want you to feel obliged to do this.”

_Trust Hill to say the most heartbreakingly gentle things._

Natasha could have responded in so many ways. _But I want to. I want_ you, _if you’ll still have me._ But she simply caressed Maria’s bruise.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha repeated, looking deep into her blue eyes, and the brunette smiled softly, finally understanding what Natasha had meant.

“Yeah, well, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have held you like that,” Maria said, a tentative hand reaching forward and sifting through Natasha’s bangs, “It’s not your fault.”

The words knocked the wind out of Natasha.

Her hands recoiled and she turned away sharply.

“Don’t say that,” Natasha hissed through gritted teeth, her fists clenching beside her.

“Doesn’t matter whether I say it,” Maria replied, her voice quiet, much to Natasha’s surprise, “It’s a fact and you know it.”

Natasha turned to face the taller woman, swallowing the lump in her throat. It grew even more painful when she saw Maria’s eyes, unbridled conviction shining in them, imploring Natasha to _believe_.

“Why do you do this, Hill?” she whispered, when she could finally find her voice, “After everything I’ve done to you…”

There were so many unsaid questions in there.

_Why are you able to take my pain away, without me even asking for it? Why do you shower me with kindness even when you know I have nothing to offer in return? Why do you keep trying to hold me together, when I’m already broken beyond repair?_

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” Maria echoed softly, “Not to _them._ Not even to yourself.”

“You’re far too important to us,” the brunette continued when Natasha didn’t respond, “S.H.I.E.L.D. needs the Black Widow.”

The Black Widow. The stone-cold murderer.

And just like that, Natasha couldn’t take it anymore.

“Right, of course,” she spat out, “I forgot what a valuable _resource_ I am to you.”

“Thanks, so much, for reminding me, Hill,” Natasha said bitterly, “And I’m sorry about tonight. But I you need to leave,” she all but growled, levelling the lieutenant with a glare.

Natasha wanted the brunette to fight back; yell at her for being so ungrateful. But Maria simply dropped her head and stood up to leave. Natasha’s eyes drilled into the taller woman’s back and she had the insane urge to tackle her.

The brunette stopped mid-stride and turned around, observing Natasha for a while. Natasha found herself holding her breath for whatever well-deserved barb Maria was going to give her, but the taller woman just sighed audibly.

“For what it’s worth, Romanoff,” she began, “The Black Widow is so much more than the world – or even _you –_ have made her out to be,” Maria said, as if she’d guessed Natasha’s thoughts, “Fury sees it. _I_ see it.”

She gave Natasha one last wistful smile, her eyes suddenly tired and defeated, “I’m waiting for the day that you see it too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart actually broke writing this chapter. Just. Wanted to put it out there.


	18. The Ruby in the Smoke

## The Soldier

“Where is she?” Maria snapped into her earpiece, her eyes darting around as she assessed the chaos at the foot of the burning building.

“Barton!” she barked when she didn’t receive an answer, “What’s the Widow’s location?”

She was startled by the sound of debris falling somewhere beside her. Maria looked up and noticed that the fire that had started somewhere in the middle of the building was slowly starting to spread in both directions. _Fuck._

It had been a month since her last encounter with Natasha, and the only time they had spoken was when Maria had briefed her and Barton for this very mission. And these were her least favourite circumstances for meeting the redhead again.

_If I even get the chance._

Gnashing her teeth, Maria wondered why she was even here. It was supposed to a simple op. _Aren’t they all._ The goal was straightforward: search, retrieve, exit. But they’d hit some bad intel and hadn’t known that they were going to have company.

Long story short, a fight had broken out and Barton had requested for extraction when he’d lost contact with Natasha.

There was another small explosion somewhere above them and Maria’s eyes caught the sight of the team of agents beside her, awaiting her orders. She swatted them away, motioning towards the civilians scampering around them, quietly instructing them to get started with the crowd control. Tapping her foot on the ground restlessly, she willed for Barton to respond quickly.

As if on cue, her earpiece buzzed with the distorted sound of static and the archer’s voice was finally heard, “Hill, is that you? Send the chopper to the roof of the main building, I’m almost –” a string of gunshots “– up there. I’ve got the hard drives with me.”

Maria let herself relax just a bit when she didn’t trace any hint of pain in Barton’s voice. _He hasn’t been hit. Yet._ She quickly beckoned over the nearest agents and relayed Barton’s commands.

“What about Romanoff?” she snapped, once the men had scurried away, “Where is she?”

Barton made a strangled sound before replying, “I-I’m not sure. She was providing the distraction while I searched for the drives. She was somewhere on the 15th floor before I lost contact with her,” he said, pausing to launch a few arrows, “I can’t go back down, there’s too many people chasing my ass.”

The 15th floor. The server room. That was where the fire had started.

_Fucking perfect._

“Got it, Agent,” Maria huffed, already walking towards the entrance of the building, “Move to the extraction point. I’ll be there with Romanoff.”

She thought of taking a mask and all the fancy gear with her, but then decided it was just too uncomfortable and would only end up slowing her down. And gauging by the rate at which the flames were fanning out, speed was of utmost essence.

Maria called over the rest of the agents and barked out the orders: find the Widow, eliminate any threat.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, willing the damned song that was stuck in her head since that morning to stop playing.

Then again, it was a pretty accurate description of the situation.

It was a fucking highway to hell.

* * *

The server room was a raging inferno when Maria finally reached up there.

She had divided the storeys among the agents, taking the higher ones herself, and she hadn’t heard from them ever since they’d split up. Which meant that Natasha was still not found.

 _If she’s on this floor, she’s as good as ashes,_ Maria realised as she jumped back to avoid a flaming beam that would have crushed her.

She forced herself to be optimistic and turned back to the staircase, ignoring the ache in her legs as she took the steps two at a time. The next few storeys were engulfed in flames too, and Maria found her hope dwindling.

She was on the 22nd storey when she finally spotted some sign of life.

Through the smoke, Maria could make out the silhouettes of men as they scurried away from her, further into the office room. She readied her gun in front of her and stepped inside. The flames weren’t as bad as the earlier levels, but the place was still a furnace.

She clamped her free arm over her mouth as she tried to breathe through the fumes, and started jogging in their direction. The smoke was thick and dark, and Maria could barely even watch her steps, her eyes stinging with tears. She kept crashing into the burnt remains of office equipment and prayed that the noise wouldn’t be heard over the existing cacophony.

But of course, when had she ever had that kind of luck.

A bullet whizzed past her, grazing her free arm, and Maria found herself ducking and rolling away to avoid the short burst of gunfire that followed.

She’d lost her earpiece somewhere during the fall, but she had no time to care about that. She fired back, one shot at a time, straining her ears to get some idea of where to aim, and heard the tell-tale sound of bodies dropping to the ground.

The thought that one of them might have been Natasha crossed her mind and she briefly panicked. _No, it couldn’t be,_ Maria forced herself to think straight, _she’s too short to fire at this angle,_ she guessed, looking at the position of the wound, just below her shoulder _._ She took a deep breath, the smoke grating against her throat. _That’s right, Hill. Stay focused._

Maria stood up slowly, her grip over the gun tight despite the throbbing in her arm, and scanned the surroundings. She caught a movement in her peripheral vision and her head whipped towards it. She saw the outlines of the people – tall and buff – and instantly fired two clean shots. _That’s got to be all of them._

Through the haze, Maria saw the silhouettes drop to the ground up close, the bodies trembling a bit before going still, and she suddenly froze, her armed hand still suspended in the air. She blinked and shook her head furiously as the images – the _memories –_ assaulted her mind…

_Maria let out a rickety cough, struggling to stay conscious, the smoke and dust making every breath hurt._

_Far away from her, Maria watched some of her teammates trying to get up, their bodies quaking with effort. They’d barely lifted their heads when, out of nowhere, a spray of bullets hit them, riddling their bodies in far too many places. Maria saw their bodies writhing as they breathed their last –_

_STOP._

Maria inhaled deeply, trying to push away the visions of her past. _This is not the time, Hill._ She took some more breaths, willing herself to calm down and focus. She couldn’t afford to lose herself right now.

With that resolution, Maria continued walking further into the space, her eyes still darting around for any threats.

She froze in her tracks when she heard a faint crash somewhere to her right. Promptly turning towards it, Maria increased her pace to reach its source, the flames licking around her as she went deeper down a seemingly endless corridor.

She hadn’t heard the sound again over the general din of the sirens and destruction, and she just hoped she wasn’t walking into a trap. Or else, well, it was just going to end up in a clusterfuck that she couldn’t possibly –

_Fuck._

_Natasha._

Maria staggered to a stop when she finally spotted the small body lying a few feet in front of her. The face was turned away, but it had to be her. Maria ran towards her, falling to her knees as she took the woman into her arms, the life returning to her only when she felt Natasha’s pulse under her fingers.

The hand cradling Natasha’s head came back wet and sticky with blood and Maria deduced that she must have been knocked out by the blow, preventing her escape. She checked the smaller woman for any other injuries, but apart from a few scrapes and burns, she seemed fine.

Maria was just about to sigh in relief when Natasha stirred in her arms.

Her eyes cracked open, gazing at Maria in confusion, and before she could say anything, a wave of violent coughs took over her tiny body. Maria figured that Natasha had probably been in the smoke for far too long before she’d found her, and she could only watch helplessly as the smaller woman curled up into a ball, her body convulsing in Maria’s arms.

Maria began panicking in full force when the coughs didn’t stop, and she realised that Natasha was going to die of suffocation if they stayed here any longer. She quickly gathered the redhead’s quaking form and stood up, her legs wobbling for a bit before regaining their balance.

She turned around to leave the corridor and found that the entrance was nearly invisible, the flames and smoke blocking her path almost completely. Gritting her teeth, she looked down at the woman in her arms, her eyes thin slits and her face contorted in pain as the tremors ravaged her body.

Maria brushed her lips against Natasha’s forehead, willing for her misery to end. When she pulled back, she saw that the redhead’s eyes had opened wider, the green orbs clear of the agony just for a moment, like she recognised Maria. The coughing had slowly started to cease, but Maria could see that her breathing was still alarmingly ragged.

She looked deep into Natasha’s eyes; her forehead furrowing with determination as her arms tightened around the smaller woman. _I will get you out of here, if it’s the last thing I do._ The redhead sighed tiredly and snuggled deeper into Maria’s arms, as if she’d heard that promise and trusted her to not break it.

With that, Maria clenched her jaw and stepped right into the blazing hellhole.

She couldn’t feel the full blast of the fire, thanks to the special heat-resistant tac suit, and she pulled Natasha closer to herself to prevent the flames from touching her. The added weight in her arms was making it difficult for Maria to be fast, but she trudged forward with all her strength.

When they finally made it out of the corridor, Maria noticed that Natasha had passed out. Her breathing was slow and uneven, and her body was almost totally limp. Pushing down her worry, Maria looked back up and swept her eyes around to look for the exit.

She had just spotted it and started making her way towards it, when an explosion somewhere towards her left had her ears ringing.

Maria instinctively turned away, shielding Natasha from the shrapnel that shot out towards them, but her mind was no longer there. Her vision started to black out and she found her legs buckling as she collapsed to the floor, the redhead still somehow held securely in her arms…

_Sand. There was sand everywhere. Sand and fire and smoke._

_Maria could barely hear her teammates’ cries over the sound of repeated blasts going off around her. She was pinned under rubble, completely immobilised as the sun beat down on her blood-caked face._

_Somewhere far away from her, she saw a few of her comrades crawl out, their bodies battered and shaking. She saw the tank approaching, the rifles aimed right at them, and she tried to move. To do something to warn her team. But it was as if she was paralysed._

_She opened her mouth, but her cry was drowned out by yet another explosion, this one much close to her. It was a long time after that, when the ringing in her ears finally ended, and she was able to hear her own sobs of sheer helplessness._

_And the sand. There was just so much of it, she felt like she would drown in it. This was how she would die. Incapacitated under a rock, and of no use to her team. Even her death was going to be undignified and pointless…_

Maria blinked her eyes rapidly, but the images kept swirling in front of them.

It had been a while since she’d had an episode, but she hadn’t forgotten just how disabling they could be. _Please, not right now,_ Maria prayed desperately, taking a breath and wheezing as she inhaled smoke. The sharp pain at the back of her throat seemed to jolt her out of her haze, and she shook her head to wrench herself free of the memories.

History was repeating itself, and in the fucking _worst_ way possible. It was almost like fate had hand-picked some of the most difficult situations in Maria’s life, and then recreated them in this twisted way. She clenched her jaw painfully tight, biting down the frustration and dread.

Maria looked around and saw that the flames had increased exponentially around her, and she wondered just how long she had zoned out. Her gaze shifted back to the unconscious woman in her arms, her hand wrapped around her neck still loosely gripping Maria’s collar, and whatever heaviness had taken over her limbs started to melt away.

Maria stood up, her arms shaking with exhaustion as she bore Natasha’s dead weight, her feet barely managing to keep her upright. Her vision tunnelled around the door leading to the staircase and she dragged herself towards it.

It was just across the room, but it seemed to take Maria forever to get there. Her own breathing had gotten laborious by the time she made it to the foot of the stairs, and she had to pause to steady herself.

There were still some explosions going off elsewhere in the building as the machines and appliances got short-circuited. Each sound threatened to take Maria back into the darkness, and she found herself biting the inside of her cheek to stay alert.

 _Come on, Hill,_ she panted, _just a few more flights of stairs._

She repeated the words in her mind like a mantra with every step she took, the countdown to the roof helping to divert her focus away from the blasts.

* * *

Maria would never quite remember how she did it, but she finally made it to the top, her face covered in perspiration and her body shaking with fatigue by the end of it.

The gate to the terrace was only a few feet away from her and she forced herself to cover the distance. Maria had just reached the door when it was wrenched open, and she found herself staring at Barton’s soot-covered face.

“Fuck, Tasha,” he whispered, taking the redhead’s limp body from Maria after pulling them both out onto the roof.

Maria’s arms fell beside her, trembling as they were finally relieved of the weight, and she took large gulps of air, grateful for the fresh oxygen.

“She’s alive,” Maria rasped when she saw Barton’s ashen expression, “A concussion and severe asphyxiation…” she croaked, her own throat aching from the ordeal.

Maria noticed the chopper hovering near the end of the platform as Barton whirled around and hastened towards it. She saw some agents approach them and she recognised their faces from earlier, but her sight was beginning to blur.

Before she knew it, her legs buckled and she fell to her knees, her palms reaching out as she braced herself against the ground.

The blood from her wound was dribbling down her arm, forming a small pool beside her hand, but she could barely notice it. Her body suddenly felt weak and powerless as the adrenaline finally started draining away, and she struggled to stay conscious.

Maria found herself being hoisted up by someone and forced herself to open her eyes. Two of her agents – the ones she had sent up with the chopper – were holding each of her arms as they staggered towards the edge.

“The rest of the team?” Maria managed to murmur as they stumbled forward.

“They’re downstairs,” she heard one of them say, “They tried to come up, but they were met with resistance. By the time they neutralised the threats, most of the upper storeys had already been destroyed by the fire,” the voice continued, “Agent Barton told them to retreat.”

“Is anyone…”

“There aren’t any casualties on our side, Agent,” the same voice said, and Maria felt herself relax again, “The agents are all safe and out of the building, awaiting your orders. I assume I can tell them to disband and meet us at the HQ?”

Maria only nodded in response and let herself be dragged, summoning the last modicum of her strength to put one foot in front of the other. In the next flurry of movements, she felt herself being hauled up in the air as she was transferred onto the chopper.

The last thing she saw before slipping into oblivion was an oxygen mask being lowered onto Natasha’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC.
> 
> That's the song that was in Maria's head.


	19. Tired of Running

## The Widow

The first thing Natasha saw when she opened her eyes was the immaculate, white ceiling of the medbay.

She turned her head slowly, wincing at the stiffness in her neck, and found Clint seated in the chair beside her bed, his eyes tired even as he glared at her.

He held out his hand before Natasha could open her mouth and quickly reached for the stash of ice chips, placing some on her parched lips. As she sucked on them gratefully, she noticed his gaze had softened.

“You’ve been thrown off cliffs, shot at, almost run over by a fucking Humvee,” Clint said, his voice gruff from not being used, “And yet, acute respiratory failure is what keeps you out for 4 days.”

Natasha shut her eyes as she let the information sink in, her mind reeling as the events of the mission came back to her.

“The op…?” she rasped, her throat aching as she spoke.

“I got the drives. We finished the mission,” Clint replied, making Natasha nod.

“Have you been…” Natasha tried to speak again, her voice gravelly and barely recognisable, “Have you been here all this time?”

“The hoarseness might stay for a few days,” he pointed out, his hand taking Natasha’s to soothe her, “And to answer your question: no, I came in only today.”

“They allowed only 1 visitor in the ICU,” Cint quickly clarified, “And Hill didn’t leave this chair till this morning…”

Hill. The smoke. The blue eyes gazing into hers burning brighter than the flames around her.

Natasha only remembered glimpses of the whole thing. But she could never forget the unbelievable feeling of being in Maria’s arms. The sheer relief that had filled every part of her – despite the searing pain in her lungs – when the lieutenant had pecked her forehead, ever so delicately. Because she’d known that the woman wouldn’t let her die, no matter what.

She’d known it as if it were a universal truth.

Much to Natasha’s surprise, it wasn’t as unsettling as she’d thought it would be; just how much faith she had in Maria. Especially when trust never came so easily to her.

“… I mean, seriously,” Clint was still speaking, and Natasha realised she had tuned him out for a while, “How does one even _sit_ in this godawful piece of furniture, let alone _sleep_ and _write reports_ in it? S.H.I.E.L.D. really needs to up their game when it comes to –”

“Where did she go?” Natasha croaked, interrupting his tirade.

Even in her weak state, Natasha managed to catch the slight tension in Clint’s posture as he cleared his throat, “No idea. She’s taken a shore leave.”

“She finished her pending paperwork and handed over her ongoing operations before going,” he explained when Natasha’s brows knitted together in question, “I pestered Fury enough to find out that she hasn’t mentioned a joining date.”

Natasha’s eyes widened and her brows rose to almost touch her hairline. The lieutenant taking days off was already absurd, but an indefinite leave of absence was downright disturbing. And a _shore_ leave at that? The woman practically lived on the Helicarrier.

Natasha could guess it wasn’t because of an injury. That had never kept the stubborn agent from her work. No, this was something else. Something much bigger. But Natasha couldn’t figure out what. Because Maria had seemed much better in the past month.

Apparently, their fight after the sparring match had managed to drill some sense into the taller woman, and Maria hadn’t seemed nearly as frustrated as she’d been earlier. She had gone back to being the calm and confident lieutenant that ran the place. _What could possibly make her leave right now?_

Natasha found herself getting increasingly worried, and she _needed_ to know what was going on with Maria. Pronto _._

As if sensing her alarm, Clint gently pressed his hand against her shoulder, and Natasha realised she had subconsciously started getting up. He made her lie down before speaking, “For fuck’s sake, Tasha, don’t move.”

“You’re not cleared to leave the med-bay for at least another day,” he chided, making Natasha huff weakly at him.

“But I need to see her,” she mumbled indignantly, her voice not having even an ounce of the force she wanted it to.

Clint just eyed her curiously, a strange smile tugging at his lips, “Those were Hill’s exact words.”

Natasha could only stare in confusion. _Exact words from where?_

“When we were in the chopper, on our way back to the Helicarrier,” Clint clarified, “Hill brought you up to the roof and passed out herself by the time we were in the air. But she came around for a bit and demanded that we let her see you. Wouldn’t let the medic even touch her till we convinced her that you were alive and doing fine.”

“Her eyes had almost the same – if not more – desperation in them as yours do right now,” he added softly, his hand gently squeezing Natasha’s.

The new information was as troubling as it was touching. _Had something happened when I was unconscious in the fire?_

Natasha couldn’t help but feel utterly useless. She was confined to this damned bed and all she wanted to do was rip out all the tubes poking into her and make a dash for Hill. She groaned and screwed her eyes shut.

“Okay, seriously, Tasha,” Clint said after a bit, making her look at him, “What’s going on between the two of you?”

“Don’t even bother,” he stopped her when she opened her mouth to brush him off, “You have the woman wrapped around your finger. You had to see just how worried she was for you, despite her flawless poker face.”

But Natasha only pursed her lips, making Clint even angrier.

“Damn it, Tasha!” he snapped, “I swear, if you’re just toying with Hill – if-if all that flirty banter you guys have been at for months was just a part of some game – then I will _personally_ kick your ass off this ship.”

“And if it isn’t,” Clint added, after taking a breath to calm down, “Then you need to stop fighting your goddamned feelings and tell her.”

Natasha hoped that the glare she was shooting his way was at least a fraction of how deadly it normally was. She added a clench of her jaw, not looking away from the archer even for a second. _We’re not having this conversation right now._

But for once, Clint didn’t back down, “God, you both are _so_ made for each other,” he smirked – he actually fucking _smirked –_ before continuing, “Hill gave me that look too, when I tried to ask her. The if-only-I-could-light-you-on-fire-with-just-my-eyes look.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, smothering the wince as her head throbbed at the movement, “I’m not fighting anything, Clint,” she said, exhaling tiredly, “There _aren’t_ any feelings to fight.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked, softly this time, and Natasha realised that the struggle was futile.

If she was so transparent that even Clint could read her, then she didn’t stand a chance at denying it to herself. She simply averted her gaze and accepted defeat, eyeing the hem of the hospital gown she was wearing with new interest.

Clint sighed at her silent admission, “I’ve been there, Tasha,” he said, his voice gentle and thoughtful, “That headspace where you think you’re saving them the trouble by staying away.”

“You think that you wouldn’t ever hurt them this way,” he continued, his eyes glazing over in longing, “But you’re really not. I’ve tried it, and trust me, it doesn’t work. If anything, you hurt them more by trying to push them away.”

Natasha shut her eyes, the logic in Clint’s words making all of Hill’s reactions from the past many weeks clear. Of course, they were both were trying to drive each other away. Maybe Natasha had been trying harder. She’d wanted to get the woman to hate her, but she’d only ended up causing her pain.

“She deserves better,” Natasha breathed the words, opening her eyes as she looked up to face Clint.

“For all you know, she thinks the same. That _she_ doesn’t deserve _you._ If you think that her past is squeaky-clean compared to yours, then you’re terribly mistaken,” he said emphatically, and Natasha flashed him a look of annoyance.

“God, Tasha, you _both_ have your issues,” Clint argued with fervour, “That doesn’t make either of you unworthy of a shot at happiness.”

“I _don’t want_ happiness, Clint!” Natasha finally snapped, looking away sharply.

“The truth is that Hill might be the only one who could actually be able to give me what I want,” she admitted, probably for the first time, even to herself, “But I can’t use her like that. Because I have absolutely _nothing_ to give her.”

“You know the most heart-breaking part of it all?” Clint whispered, the sad smile on his lips actually making Natasha’s breath catch, _“She knows that.”_

* * *

Natasha trudged through the busy streets of New York; the evening sun just pleasant enough to make the walk bearable.

She had finally been allowed to leave the med-bay – 2 whole days after she’d regained consciousness, much to her annoyance – and she had been waiting to get off the Helicarrier the second she had changed into her own clothes.

But of course, Fury had stopped her and snagged her for the long over-due debrief.

And Natasha had conspicuously felt the absence of a certain hard-headed agent in the meeting room. But she had taken the opportunity to try and get the Director to spill some beans about Maria’s shore leave. But he had deftly sidestepped Natasha’s every trick.

Natasha hadn’t given up, though, and she’d gone ahead and done her own investigation. And the results had made her all the more impatient to get to the brunette.

Natasha weaved through the roads, a piece of paper clutched in her hand, trying to find her way to the address written on it. She finally spotted the block at the far end of the street and a nervous smile broke out on her face. Ever since she had spoken to Clint, his words had been plaguing her mind.

 _“We get lucky sometimes, Tasha. By some crazy twist of fate, we manage to find people who aren’t interested in what you have to offer. They just want_ you _, warts and all. And you’d be insulting them – and the universe in its entirety – by not taking what you’ve earned. Even if it doesn’t feel like you have.”_

Natasha scoffed fondly at the man who had become her family. When ever had he turned into Cupid? _Maybe, it’s the arrows,_ Natasha mused, and realised that she’d reached the entrance of the building. She had expected something fancier and posh. She found it hard to believe that a high-ranking officer such as Maria would live here.

Natasha stood in her place, catching her breath for a while. Her barely recuperated lungs were protesting, but the mess in her mind overrode them. She didn’t know what she was doing there, or what she was going to do after meeting the woman herself.

Brushing aside her thoughts, Natasha stepped inside, her eyes resting on the staircase in front her.

Somehow, the flights of stairs staring back at her seemed more daunting than every ravine she’d had to cross in her life.

## The Soldier

Maria took a step back and studied her work with satisfaction.

It was barely evening yet, but she’d already made preparations for dinner. Well, hers and another army’s, gauging by the proportions. Her arm was sore after all the effort, but she was happy with the result.

Despite her lack of practice, the cookies smelled amazing, and she had to hope the lasagna would taste good after being baked. The topping for the bruschetta was ready and all Maria had to do was toast the bread just before having it.

She’d wanted to relax and watch a movie (activities that she was almost unfamiliar with) and she had decided to get the cooking out of the way before lounging on her couch. Grabbing a pile of cookies in a dish, Maria shuffled out of her kitchen. She was halfway across the living room when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

“Hill here,” Maria barked, without even checking the caller ID.

She was _on leave,_ for Christ’s sake. Couldn’t they manage for a few days without her?

“Yeah, hey, Hill, it’s Barton,” the nervous voice from the other side immediately sobered Maria down.

“Oh, okay, what is it?” she asked cautiously, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front her.

“Uh, this is going to sound a little awkward,” Barton began, his voice tense, “But you might just be the only other person who –”

“Spit it out, Barton,” Maria growled, her own apprehension rising.

“Natasha’s missing,” he breathed, “She isn’t anywhere on the Helicarrier, and I don’t know where she’s gone.”

“ _What?_ ” Maria snapped, “She’s just been discharged by the med-staff. Why did you let her leave?”

“She’s Natasha Romanoff. Nobody can control her, and I think you know that better than I do, _Agent Hill,_ ” Barton countered, “Point is, she hasn’t told anyone where she’s going. Her cell phone is switched off, and she doesn’t have any other devices on her either, so we can’t track her location.”

“And I might have reason to believe that she could be with you,” he added quickly before falling quiet.

“Well, she isn’t here,” Maria sputtered, thrown off by his accusation, “Why would you even think so?”

“Wait, she’s not with you?” he replied, sounding genuinely worried, “Fuck.”

Yeah. Fuck, it was. Leave it to Romanoff to make her work even when she’s on leave. Maria rubbed her free hand across her face and groaned internally.

“I’m pretty sure Romanoff can handle herself, Barton,” she huffed, already moving to collect her car keys, “But I’m coming over, regardless. I’ll check the general spots on my way while you –”

Maria’s hand paused when it was midway through her jacket as she swung open her door, the phone still cradled between her shoulder and ear.

There was the woman in question, her fist frozen in air, as if she’d been intending to knock.

It felt a little weird seeing Natasha in capri pants and a casual shirt, and Maria suddenly felt conscious of her own worn-out grey t-shirt and track pants.

“I… I’m going to have to call you back, Barton,” Maria mumbled, her eyes never leaving the redhead’s face even as she cut the call and shoved the phone and jacket away.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Natasha said, still panting from having climbed the stairs all the way up to her flat.

Maria led her over to the couch, letting the shorter woman catch her breath as she sat down. She waited for a bit before shuffling towards the dining table.

“What the hell, Romanoff,” Maria said, handing the woman a glass of water, “Just _what_ were you thinking, coming here unannounced and uninvited.”

“So sorry, Hill, I didn’t know I’d be interrupting your date night,” Natasha huffed in between the gulps, and Maria actually wanted to strangle her.

She was amazed at the woman’s ability to be so sassy, all the fucking time. It was a talent Maria severely lacked. Her own responses were usually spot-on, but they were almost always calculated and well-crafted, unlike Natasha’s. _Then again, spontaneity is just the spy’s way of life_. 

“How did you even find out where I live?” Maria muttered, taking the glass from the woman when she was done.

“That information was tactfully acquired,” Natasha responded coolly, eyeing the plate of cookies in front of her hungrily.

The way she said it made Maria wonder what _else_ had the cocky agent managed to find out. She gulped and chose to ignore the thought, “Do I even want to know…?”

The shorter woman simply glanced at her and wiggled her eyebrows up and down, a devious grin splitting across her face as she picked up a cookie and took a small bite.

“What are you doing, Romanoff?” Maria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to fathom why the woman was even in her house.

“I’m eating a cookie, Hill,” Natasha answered sagely, audibly munching as she took another bite, a much bigger one this time.

“I meant what are you doing _here,_ ” Maria muttered, glaring at the Russian.

“Oh, my bad,” Natasha said in faux apology, “That would be: eating a cookie,” she deadpanned.

They entered a brief staring match, the only sound in the room being the crunch of the cookie in Natasha’s mouth.

Neither backed down, but Maria knew she had won this round. She knew it because the redhead was struggling to restrain her moan of appreciation as she relished the baked good. It was her grandmother’s recipe and Maria knew just how amazing those cookies were, especially when they were fresh.

Maria smirked and raised an eyebrow by way of announcing her victory, but Natasha only narrowed her eyes. Maria crossed her arms and observed the redhead amusedly as she finished the cookie in her hand and leaned over to the coffee table. But instead of taking another one, Natasha picked up the whole plate and placed in her lap, effectively laying her claim on _all_ the cookies.

 _Damned smartass,_ Maria chuckled lightly, dropping her hands beside her, _what even made me think I could win against her._

“Come on over,” Natasha called out, beckoning her with a flourish, “Make yourself at home,” she said, patting the seat beside her as she snuggled deeper into the couch, making it clear to Maria that she didn’t plan on leaving any time soon.

Maria shook her head and walked towards the couch, snagging the TV remote before sitting. She scrolled through her list of recorded movies, trying to ignore the warm arm occasionally brushing against hers as Natasha dug into the dish of treats.

Maria had been hoping to watch a nice biopic, but with the redhead sitting barely an inch away from her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate.

“Seriously, Hill?” Natasha piped up when Maria finally picked a movie, “You’re going to go with ‘Rush Hour?’”

But Maria merely shrugged. She’d watched the movie many times before. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the movie, but it was associated with a much simpler time in her life. Not a happier time – not by a long shot – but just… a much less stressed time.

“It makes me laugh,” Maria replied rather quietly, glancing over to the shorter woman.

 _And we don’t get too many reasons to do that in our line of work._ She saw Natasha’s eyes soften and knew that the redhead had heard the unsaid.

Maria played the movie and leaned back into the couch, getting into a comfortable position. Natasha thrust out the plate towards her and waited till Maria took a cookie from it before pulling it back into her lap, as if it had been hers to begin with.

And Maria couldn’t help but smile at the entire situation. This wasn’t how she’d imagined spending the evening, but maybe – just, _maybe_ – it wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

It wasn’t bad at all.

Barely minutes into the movie, both women had found themselves relaxing and even _giggling_ at the silly jokes. It felt almost surreal to Maria as the tinkling sound echoed across her otherwise silent and morose house.

At some point, Natasha had sighed and leaned her head onto Maria’s shoulder, her still-weak lungs tired after laughing so hard, and Maria was glad that the redhead couldn’t see the grin on her face.

They openly pointed out the ridiculous plot holes, their running commentary making the whole experience even more entertaining. Maria even heard the Russian grumble at a few stunts that Jackie Chan performed on screen, claiming that she could do them better (Maria didn’t doubt that), and she had to smother her chuckle.

It was a moment from another world as they enjoyed each other’s company in a way they never had before.

They had taken a pause midway through the movie (“Bathroom break, please!” Natasha had yelped before scampering down the hall) when Maria had gone over to the kitchen to preheat the oven. And after resuming the movie, Maria had taken a few “bathroom breaks” herself as she checked the lasagna while it baked.

They were reaching the end when Maria’s eye caught the clock hanging by the wall, and she realised they were just in time for dinner _._ The film credits started rolling and the final timer for the oven briefly dinged in the kitchen. _Right on time._

It was like coming out of a dream as both of them stood up from the couch, the atmosphere suddenly awkward without the aid of the white noise.

“Well, this has been great,” Natasha began after a bit, clearing her throat, “I must say, I was a little apprehensive about an _American_ agent and a _Russian_ assassin watching a buddy-cop movie where one of them was _Asian_ and the other was _black_ ,” she said, and Maria laughed outright at that.

“Was that your way of subtly reinforcing S.H.I.E.L.D.’s ‘embrace-all-ethnicities’ policy, Lieutenant?” the redhead teased, grinning herself.

“Don’t get smart with me, Romanoff,” Maria mock-scolded her as she moved towards the kitchen, “You’ll quit judging my movie preferences if you want to have dinner.”

Maria heard Natasha’s breath hitch and stopped in her tracks, wondering what she had said wrong.

She eyed her curiously, but the redhead seemed lost in her own thoughts. Shrugging to herself, Maria started walking again. She flitted in and out of the kitchen, setting the dishes and the cutlery before bringing the food.

Maria didn’t say a word throughout the exercise and only shot cursory glances towards the shorter woman every time she came out of the kitchen. But Natasha stood rooted to her spot, her eyes having a faraway look, and her silence was beginning to unnerve Maria.

“Would you, uh, like some more mozzarella on your bruschetta?” she sputtered nervously, desperate to get rid of the sudden tension, “I don’t usually put too much on mine, but I think I have cheese flakes somewhere in the –”

“You want me to stay for dinner?” Natasha asked quietly, putting a generous end to Maria’s ranting.

“Of course,” Maria replied instantly, visibly relaxed, “It’s pretty late and I would never kick out a hungry soul. Even she’s self-invited,” she added with a smirk, and saw Natasha nod absently.

“Now tell me, Romanoff,” Maria continued as she laid out the food on the dining table, “Does this work for you?”

When she finally looked up after adjusting the dishes for the millionth time, she saw that Natasha was gazing at her with a strange sparkle in her eyes.

Maria would have dared to guess that there was almost _fondness_ in them, but she wasn’t that naïve. So, she simply stood there, propped against the dining table, waiting for Natasha to come over and join her. Hoping that the redhead wouldn’t bail on her this time as well.

Natasha eventually started walking towards her, and Maria released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. As the Russian came closer, Maria noticed the barely-there half-smile on her face, and she tilted her face slightly, studying the redhead quizzically.

The smile grew with each step, lighting up Natasha’s full face with its brilliance, and Maria’s heart ached with longing for the woman. The redhead stopped when she reached Maria, standing so impossibly close that Maria could see every shade of green in her eyes.

The shorter woman’s gaze was just as soft as it was intense when she looked up and whispered, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, Natasha tiptoed and captured Maria’s lips, finally covering the infinite distance between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally.


	20. The Taste of You

## The Widow

Kissing Maria Hill was nothing and everything like Natasha had imagined it to be.

At first the brunette stayed still, her lips quivering under Natasha’s, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. Natasha raised her hand and held Maria’s face gently, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, pouring the weeks of pining into it.

And Maria finally responded, her lips moving fluidly, if still slowly, against Natasha’s. The brunette’s hand reached up to tangle into Natasha’s hair, her fingers exploring the red tresses.

“ _Finally_ ,” Maria eventually breathed against her lips.

Natasha pulled back just a bit to look into the taller woman’s eyes, hoping to convey just how sorry she was for not doing this before. For literally pushing her away all this while.

But Maria simply smiled and bent down to cover Natasha’s lips again, her other hand snaking across her waist to bring her closer, if that was even possible.

The kiss was much more fulfilling this time as they tasted each other with fervour, and Natasha could hardly believe the sheer delight buzzing within her. It wasn’t like anything she had felt before and yet, it felt _familiar._ Like she was born to kiss Maria.

The thought was exhilarating, and Natasha pressed further into the taller woman, making her lean into the table behind her. Her sudden move amused Maria and she chuckled lightly against Natasha’s lips, the sound sending shivers down her back.

Natasha pulled back, letting the brunette straighten herself, her mind already formulating a playful jab to shoot at the agent. But the look of disbelief on Maria’s face made Natasha’s heart melt and she stayed quiet, licking her lips to savour the aftertaste of the kiss.

“If I’d known all I had to do was offer to feed you,” Maria murmured breathlessly, “I would have done it ages ago.”

“I’m not that easy, Hill,” Natasha said, a fond smirk on her lips, “Even if you had offered, it would have depended on how good the food was.”

“Oh, yeah?” Maria huffed, an eyebrow raised in challenge, “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, and give it a try?”

“ _Or_ , you know,” Natasha quipped, her hands fisting around the taller woman’s collar, tugging her close, “I could just put my mouth on your mouth.”

She gave Maria just enough time to laugh before kissing her full on the lips. They devoured each other for what felt like forever, until they had to break apart to breathe. Natasha’s lungs were burning with the need for oxygen, but she couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

“As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm,” she said, grinning at Maria, “I really am hungry.”

Maria smiled softly before letting her go, ushering her towards the chair with one hand. She didn’t bother with the unnecessary chivalry of waiting there till Natasha was seated and proceeded to move to her side.

Maria was serving the food and Natasha had to physically restrain herself from outright salivating. Because the food _did_ smell delicious. And it had been awfully long since Natasha had had a meal this elaborate.

Not that she was going to say that aloud for Hill to hear. She’d already given the woman enough reasons to gloat.

 _Although, proud_ is _an incredibly sexy look on the lieutenant…_

“You can start, you know,” Maria interrupted her fantasy, and Natasha saw that she was openly smirking at her.

_God, I’ve got to stop zoning out like that._

The first bite of the lasagna was enough to win her over. It had her game, set and match, and Natasha found it nearly impossible to resist the moan at the explosion of flavours. She stifled it with superhuman effort, her hand reaching for a paper towel.

Natasha dabbed at her lips for much longer than necessary, mentally reminding herself to _not_ attack the food so savagely. It was going to be difficult, because every bite was better than the first. But she wasn’t going to let the brunette win this.

She took a few more bites, patiently this time, before Maria broke the silence, “Why now?”

Natasha didn’t respond and the brunette went on, “You knew that I wanted to… that I wanted _this,_ ” Maria said, picking at her food, and Natasha could see the anxiousness on her face, “So, why now, of all the times?”

Natasha slowed down even more, chewing at a glacial pace, thinking of an answer to the question. She’d been wondering what had spurred her to give in to the temptation herself.

She didn’t know if it was Clint’s persuasion. Or it was the fact that she had basically barged into Maria’s house, effectively gate-crashing her plans for the evening, and yet, the woman had seamlessly accommodated her, even implicitly inviting her for dinner.

(Of course, it was a very _Hill_ thing to just pick up and go on even when Natasha was being a brat.)

Or maybe it was simply the lack of tension throughout the evening.

There weren’t any guns, or sparring rings or nightmares to be intimidated by, and Natasha had felt so impossibly comfortable. She had been so _at ease_ the whole time in Maria’s presence, that the months of denial seemed almost silly to her right now.

Natasha knew the bubble was temporary and everything standing in their way was eventually going to rear its ugly head, but at the moment, nothing seemed to matter. And now that she’d gotten a taste of what it felt like to be so _openly_ adored, she didn’t know if she could go back to rebuffing it.

“To be honest, I don’t know myself,” Natasha finally replied, “I guess, it just _felt_ right.”

The answer wasn’t nearly enough as what Maria deserved, but she took it, nodding her head like she empathised with Natasha’s confusion.

“Maybe it’s true then,” the brunette said, taking a bite of her food before smiling lightly, “Third time’s really the charm, huh?”

Natasha knew it was meant as a joke, but there was a rough edge to Maria’s voice, like maybe she was still hurt by her previous rejections.

“That wasn’t on you, Hill,” Natasha found herself rushing to soothe her, “Don’t think – even for a second – that it was you.”

Maria raised her eyebrows in question but stayed quiet, like she wanted to say something but didn’t want to prod. Natasha sighed and squared her shoulders. She owed her an explanation.

“The circumstances weren’t great, either of those times,” Natasha began, her hand unconsciously inching towards Maria’s on the table and grasping it, “We were both so –” _utterly vulnerable,_ she wanted to say, “– _disoriented,_ that I didn’t know if it would’ve been a conscious decision.”

“I never wanted to make you feel like I was forced to do it. Neither out of desperation, nor out of gratitude,” Natasha murmured, gently squeezing the brunette’s hand.

She didn’t look up for a long time, playing with Maria’s fingers while she let her words sink in.

There was a lot she hadn’t mentioned in there. _I was scared that I would kiss you and it wouldn’t mean anything. I was scared that maybe it would mean too much._ Natasha exhaled heavily as she finally admitted it to herself.

When Natasha finally faced the brunette, she found her gazing at her with a look of sheer awe on her face, her eyes shining with admiration.

“What? What is it?” she said, trying to ignore the way her breath caught at the woman’s expression.

Maria grinned widely and shook her head, “Nothing. Just… _you._ ”

“How very eloquent of you,” Natasha chuckled breathlessly.

The brunette smiled fondly before replying, “You confuse me, Romanoff,” she said, turning their hands over, her thumb ghosting over Natasha’s knuckles.

“You pull me and push me around like it’s nobody’s business. And not just in the sparring ring,” Maria said, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips.

“I do, don’t I,” Natasha smirked, making Maria laugh lightly.

“And yet, I find myself dancing to your tunes. Every time,” Maria sighed after a bit, not a hint of regret in her voice.

“These are uncharted waters for me,” Natasha said instantly, “I’ve never done this without there being an ulterior motive behind it.”

“Done what, exactly?” Maria asked innocently, but her eyes were dancing with mischief.

Probably for the first time in her life, Natasha found herself being actually flustered, “You _know_ what, Hill,” she huffed, hoping that her voice wasn’t betraying her nervousness, “Do you need me to _show_ you?”

“Oh, I would _definitely_ love to see,” Maria shot back, without losing a beat, the devilish grin on her face giving Natasha goose bumps.

Maria’s thumb began rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand and Natasha tried her best to not squirm. That combined with the heated look Maria was giving her was enough to drive her over the edge. But she stayed still, her eyes narrowing just a bit.

_You want to dance. Let’s dance._

“I’ll have you know,” Natasha said, taking a slow, deliberate bite of the lasagna with her other hand, “I don’t put out on the first date,” she stated, and then moaned lightly in pleasure. She didn’t even have to fake it; the food really was that good.

Maria’s gaze shifted lower as she observed the way Natasha licked a little bit of sauce off her lips. The brunette’s eyes darkened, and Natasha felt like her skin was on fire at the way Maria was looking at her.

But the brunette left Natasha’s hand and leaned back into her chair, “I’m sure you must have understood by now, that I’m a very patient woman.”

They lapsed into silence as they shifted their focus back to the food. The atmosphere was undoubtedly charged, and yet Natasha felt relaxed. And she saw it reflected on Maria’s face too when they stole glances over their plates.

Natasha wondered if this was all even real. And if it was just a dream, it was the best damned one she’d ever had. And she didn’t ever want to wake up from it.

* * *

“How long has it been since you had a home-cooked meal?” Maria asked as she took a step back to place the dried plate onto the rack.

Natasha turned to hand over the next washed dish and her leg slipped on some of the drops of water on the floor. And before she could help it, Natasha found herself skidding, the plate flying out of her grip.

Her arms flailed out reflexively, searching for something to break her fall, when a firm hand suddenly grabbed hers, holding her in place, while another caught the dish in the air before it crashed onto the floor.

It was a rather uncanny representation of their working dynamic in general; the lieutenant letting her do her thing, but then swooping in the second stuff started to fall apart, taking care of both Natasha and the op.

And it wasn’t that Natasha wouldn’t be able to finagle her way out of it. She had done that far too many times in her life. But it felt weirdly nice to have someone else who was also watching out for her.

Maria let her go after a bit and simply grabbed the towel to wipe the new plate while Natasha steadied herself, embarrassed at her own clumsiness.

“Clint’s wife makes a mean steak,” Natasha replied eventually, answering the brunette’s question, “But it’s been a while since they had me over. And they never make me help them clean up.”

“I can see why they don’t allow you near their glassware,” Maria teased.

“Plus, I didn’t _make_ you do anything,” the brunette protested half-heartedly, “You practically snatched the dishes out of my hands.”

“And you let me,” Natasha retorted without missing a beat, making the brunette smile.

She washed the last bit of soap off her hands before taking the towel from Maria to dry them. The taller woman noticed her fidgeting with the cloth for a while and reached out to hold her hands. Gently prying the towel out of them, Maria placed it on the counter before turning around to face her again.

“What are you thinking?” the brunette asked.

“I’m wondering why you keep doing it,” Natasha replied, and Maria’s brows furrowed in question.

Natasha exhaled audibly before speaking again, “Why do you keep letting me have my way?” she mumbled.

Maria smiled and leaned forward, and Natasha shut her eyes, waiting for the kiss.

But it never came.

Opening her eyes slowly, Natasha saw the brunette’s hand hovering over her face, like she wanted to hold her. Maria finally settled on shifting a stray strand of hair away from Natasha’s face, her gaze tracking the movement of her own finger.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the taller woman hummed.

And suddenly it was.

Maria had been waiting. Waiting for _Natasha_ to come to her. Waiting for Natasha to _see it too._ And she could see it now, clear as water. The unadulterated affection in the blue eyes as the brunette intently observed her.

Natasha could only crane her neck and brush her lips against Maria’s, the reply lying in the soft kiss. She pulled back after a bit, resting on her heels.

“While dinner was a _decent_ affair,” Natasha smirked, making Maria scoff adorably, “You forgot about dessert.”

She stepped away from the brunette, but her fingers gently threaded through Maria’s, tugging her towards her.

“Good thing I’ve got you covered,” Natasha said, winking at the brunette.

She began pulling the taller woman, but Maria didn’t move. Natasha looked back and saw the slightest bit of hesitation on the brunette’s face even as she grinned.

“What ever happened to ‘not putting out’ on the first date?” Maria said, “Are you implying that I’m an exception?”

“This whole night has been an exception for me, Maria,” Natasha replied instantly, “Why not add another one to the lot.”

She saw that the brunette’s face had lit up with a radiant smile. Natasha realised only then that it was the first time she had called the lieutenant by her first name.

“You sure about this?” Maria asked, her voice filled with wonder, “I do know a few more recipes of the finest Italian cuisine that could woo you.”

But Natasha merely huffed and jerked the woman forward, making her bend down so that she was at Natasha’s eye-level.

“Agent Maria Hill, are you going to _take. Me. Now?_ ” she said, looking straight into Maria’s blue orbs, “Or do you need the official orders to come from Fury himself?”

The brunette’s grin was impossibly wide as her free hand came up to cup Natasha’s cheek.

“I assure you that won’t be required,” Maria whispered the endearing words from a lifetime ago, “ _Natasha._ ”


	21. Give You A Hand

## The Soldier

Maria woke up the next morning expecting the redhead to be gone.

She felt bad for assuming the worst of Natasha, yet again, but that had been her first thought. Hell, she was being downright hypocritical, considering that she was of the smash-and-dash kind herself.

But the Russian had said it herself that this was new to her, and Maria had thought that a night together would get her out of Natasha’s system. Once upon a time, Maria had thought that it would get _Natasha_ out of her own system.

But she couldn’t be more wrong.

Maria observed the woman curled up beside her, the small bruise she had given her on her collarbone peeking through the shirt. The sex had been out of the world.

Maria remembered the way Natasha’s back had involuntarily arched when she’d taken one of her nipples into her teeth, the redhead’s hips rolling into Maria’s impatiently. Like she couldn’t get enough of Maria’s skin on hers.

Maria remembered the way Natasha’s fingers had sunk into her hair, holding her in place as Maria peppered kisses all over her body, letting Maria explore the curves. She remembered the reverent whimper that had escaped the redhead’s lips when she had nipped at her countless scars.

But Natasha had quickly turned things around. The redhead’s hand – and later tongue – had been deft at finding all of Maria’s sensitive spots, and she remembered writhing under her as she rode the endless waves of pleasure.

And Maria was rather proud of herself for returning the favour, wave for wave.

She remembered the taste of Natasha as her tongue had roved over all the right places. She remembered watching the redhead’s pupils dilate and her eyes eventually close at every thrust, every moan, her nails digging almost painfully into Maria’s shoulders as she trembled around Maria’s fingers.

The sight had made her own body shiver with delight.

It had been passionate and intense and gentle and intimate, all at the same time. And, if anything, it had left her wanting for more.

Maria’s hand reached forward on its own accord, her fingers ghosting over Natasha’s forehead, itching to move the errant strand of hair away. But she let it fall flat on the mattress.

Maria had no idea what the night – or even the earlier evening – meant. Both, to her and to Natasha. The only thing she was sure of was the fact that she didn’t feel like running. And that she was glad that the redhead was here too.

“You should stop staring at me like that,” Natasha’s voice caught her attention, and the woman slowly opened her eyes.

“Like what?” Maria asked, her voice a little hoarse from disuse.

“Like you want to rip off these covers and queen me right now,” Natasha replied lazily, her own voice gruff, and Maria was once again dumbfounded at the woman’s sharpness, even when she was barely awake.

“You seemed to have liked the look last night,” Maria retorted, not wanting to back down.

Natasha’s eyes suddenly darkened as she ran her hand over Maria’s exposed arm, “I like it even now.”

Maria smiled unabashedly, sitting up as she pushed off the covers, “I’d be all in for a morning quickie, but it’s already way past my schedule and I have some emails to reply to. Those morons at S.H.I.E.L.D. keep pestering me about the government policies, every damn time. I swear, it’s so annoying that they _exist,_ in the first place, but to have to be constantly reminded about them –”

“Why did you take a shore leave?” Natasha cut her off mid-rant, and Maria fell quiet. The Russian sat up as well and turned to face Maria, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m sure you must have managed to find out why,” Maria replied eventually, not meeting the redhead’s eyes, “The same way you found out my address.”

“But I want to hear it from you,” Natasha insisted.

“ _What_ do you want to hear, exactly?” Maria snapped, annoyed at the woman’s persistence.

“I want to know why the goddamned records say that you’ve been assigned a leave on the grounds of being _psychologically unfit_ to operate in the field!” Natasha heaved, her eyes boring into Maria’s.

“It’s not so much ‘assigned’ as it is self-imposed,” Maria mumbled, trying to deflect.

“That’s not the point,” Natasha hissed through gritted teeth.

Maria all but jumped out of the bed, mentally cursing herself for mindlessly rambling and driving the conversation towards the very topic she had been avoiding thinking about herself. She snatched her shirt off the floor and pulled it over her head.

“We’re _not_ having this discussion, Natasha,” Maria said firmly, glowering at the shorter woman, “Now, I’m going to go make us some eggs. I hope you’re okay with scrambled.”

* * *

This time, Maria was _sure_ that Natasha was going to bolt.

But the redhead surprised her once again when Maria came out with the plates and she was sitting at the dining table, fresh out of a shower, wearing nothing but one of Maria’s shirts.

She shot Natasha a small smile, hoping to initiate a truce, but the shorter woman only returned a death glare.

 _Of course, she isn’t going to drop the issue_.

Natasha tapped her foot restlessly against the floor as Maria brought out their coffees, her arms crossed across her chest while she waited for Maria to join her.

Breakfast turned out to be an absolute torture. Completely unlike last night’s dinner, the tension was palpable in the air, making Maria’s skin crawl, and she could barely push the food down her throat.

But Maria was absolutely sure that she didn’t want to talk about the issue. It would only open the can of worms that she had closed with so much difficulty. And so, she stared at her plate the whole time, avoiding the Russian’s piercing gaze.

Maria finished her food and stood up to get the dish to the kitchen when Natasha’s hand grabbed hers.

“Hey, come on, please,” the redhead said, her voice soft and imploring, “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Maria looked down at Natasha and realised just how much it was bothering _her_. But she couldn’t get herself to open her mouth. There would be no coming back if she did. She wasn’t prepared to break down like that in front of Natasha.

But the redhead gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “Did something happen during the extraction?”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Maria muttered before Natasha even finished the sentence.

She looked away sharply, freeing her hand from Natasha’s, and gathered the plates roughly. She turned around, hiding her face from the shorter woman, and scrunched her eyes close, praying for the memories to not consume her.

But it was too late. The can was opened, once again.

## The Widow

It had been 20 minutes since Maria had mumbled, “I’m going to take a shower,” and then huddled off into her bedroom. A full 7 minutes since Natasha had heard the shower get turned off.

The house had been deathly silent ever since. And Natasha was fucking sick of sitting on her ass in the living room, waiting for the brunette come out. Honestly, she was getting sick of the whole morning.

It was turning out to be a total disaster, as opposed to the amazing night they’d shared. But she couldn’t help it; Maria had brought up the topic herself, and Natasha had ended up blurting out the question she’d meant to ask her the moment she had entered the brunette’s apartment yesterday.

And Natasha had guessed that it would be a sore topic, but she was still thrown off by Maria’s reaction. It was frazzled and vehement at the same time, completely unlike the woman’s usual stoicism. It was like something was gnawing at her from inside. Natasha knew that feeling all too well. And she simply couldn’t watch it kill the brunette.

But she hadn’t meant to tip Maria over the edge. And Natasha was getting the feeling that she had done just that, especially with her last question. And so, she was impatiently waiting for the brunette to come out so that she could tell her that she was ready to drop the issue.

Natasha checked the clock again: 9 minutes. _That’s it, I’m done with this._ Hopping off the couch, she bounded across the hall and entered the bedroom. But Maria wasn’t there, and the washroom door was slightly ajar.

Her gait slowed down as she walked towards it, her stomach somehow churning with the fear of what she would find. Natasha called out the brunette’s name before pushing the door further open gently, to not startle her, and then walked in after a bit. And her heart broke at the sight she was met with.

Maria was standing in front of the mirror, in pants and an inside-out t-shirt that she’d probably worn in a hurry, her arms trembling as she gripped the edge of the basin. Her head was bowed down, her chin touching her chest.

The brunette’s hair was wet from the shower, and the drops of water were sliding down her back, a wet patch already visible on her shirt. Her chest was heaving, and Natasha could hear the ragged breaths.

“ _Maria_ ,” Natasha whispered, her voice cutting through the silence.

But the brunette didn’t respond, didn’t even look up, and Natasha found her hand reaching up to touch her shoulder. Maria flinched at the contact and whipped around to grab Natasha’s hand, holding it in a vice-like grip.

Her fingers were digging into Natasha’s wrist hard enough for the prints to be seen later, but Natasha was more alarmed by Maria’s glassy eyes as they scanned her face. Her gaze was fractured, and she looked so utterly lost, Natasha felt a stab of pain slice through her own heart.

This wasn’t the strong and steadfast lieutenant she knew. This was just a broken woman in pain.

Natasha brought up her free hand, her fingers shaking as she gently touched Maria’s face, stroking the point where her jaw was clenched tightly. The fog seemed to clear just a bit from the brunette’s eyes as she recognised Natasha. Maria blinked rapidly before pulling her into a hug, her body tense as her head fell on Natasha’s shoulder.

“Make it go,” Maria begged, her voice brittle, “ _Please.”_

“Make… make what go?” Natasha asked, her own voice cracking.

“The memories. The images,” Maria choked out, “The _sand._ ”

Natasha tried to pull back to look at her face, but Maria only tightened the embrace. Natasha had no idea what to do; she had never seen Maria like this, and she was not prepared for it. But she needed to get the brunette out of this state, even though she wasn’t sure she would be able to.

“Tell me,” Natasha pleaded, her own voice weak and desperate.

_Please, let me help you, like you’ve always helped me._

Maria’s arms around her loosened just a bit and she sucked in a long breath, “I was a Marine back then. Just a soldier with my team of brothers. They were the only family I had for the longest time.”

“My team leader, Middleton… he was a hell of a guy,” Maria said, her voice adopting a haunted quality, “He’d been through a few wars and he was a great strategist. Very intuitive, and fiercely protective of his team.”

The brunette took another shaky breath before continuing, “That day, we’d gotten a tip about some local militants and were told to subdue them. Middleton tried to reason with his seniors about the intel being unreliable. But they’d gotten the orders from the guys further at the top. It was like those Russian dolls.”

And Natasha could almost see where this was going.

“We went in anyway and drove straight into a minefield,” the lieutenant spat out bitterly, “Our truck was blown up the second we reached. They didn’t even give us a fair chance to fight back.”

“The explosion threw me far away from my teammates, and I was trapped under the rubble. And I had to watch them –” Maria stopped, her voice so strangled and tormented, Natasha found her hands rising to stroke the woman’s back soothingly.

“The blasts kept going off around me, and the sand kept getting everywhere, and I couldn’t… I _didn’t_ do anything,” Maria croaked, her body trembling like a leaf, “I let them get killed. Every last one of them.”

Natasha didn’t need to know the rest of it. Her own eyes prickled with tears at the brunette’s pain. She had heard and even lived through worse stories, but she couldn’t bear to watch the confident agent she’d known become this shell of a woman.

The slight wetness on her shoulder made Natasha feel all the more useless, and she could only pull Maria closer to herself. She couldn’t take away the anguish – she doubted if anybody or anything ever would – but at least she could offer to be there. Natasha knew from experience that sometimes, just that much was enough.

Maria sagged against Natasha’s body, like she couldn’t fight it anymore, and sobbed ever so quietly, the only evidence being the occasional soft sniffles. Natasha was actually grateful that she couldn’t see the Maria’s face; she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her own tears at bay if she saw the lieutenant crying.

They stayed in that position for a while before the Maria’s body suddenly stiffened again, “And then during the extraction, that explosion in the office… it took me back there…”

Maria trailed off, her arms almost crushing Natasha. The brunette shook her head against Natasha’s, and she could guess what happened next.

Maria made a strangled sound before speaking again, “Once again, I was paralysed, and I couldn’t move, and I almost didn’t… I almost let _you_ …”

And suddenly it all fell in place. She understood what was bothering Maria more. Natasha wrenched herself free from the taller woman’s grip and held her arms firmly, making Maria look at her.

“But you _didn’t,_ ” Natasha said.

But the brunette kept staring at her with disbelief, and Natasha cupped her cheek, her heart breaking at the sheer vacant look in the lieutenant’s eyes.

“You didn’t let me die, Maria,” Natasha said, willing her voice to stay strong, “You saved me.”

Natasha took Maria’s balled fists into her hands and brought them to her lips, kissing the knuckles fervently, “I’m right here.”

Her own tears finally escaped and fell onto Maria’s hands, and the brunette unclenched them just a bit. The life started returning to the taller woman’s eyes and she looked at Natasha intently, as if she was seeing her clearly after a long time. _That’s right, Hill, come on. Come back to me._

Maria raised her hand slowly, her knuckles rubbing across Natasha’s cheek tenderly, wiping her tears away, “Show me, _please._ ”

Natasha rose on her toes and pressed her lips against the brunette’s. She could taste the taller woman’s tears as she deepened the kiss, and she was sure Maria could taste hers. But it didn’t matter. All Natasha cared about right now was getting that shattered expression off the brunette’s face.

And so, she kissed Maria. Kissed her with everything she had. Kissed her until their tears dissolved into each other’s and she couldn’t differentiate whose they were. Kissed her until there was nothing left to give.

* * *

Natasha was sitting on pins and needles.

After that meltdown in the washroom, Maria had taken all but _8 seconds_ to regroup. It was like a switch had been flicked off.

The brunette’s face had suddenly cleared up and her voice had become firm again, as if she hadn’t broken down into tears just a few minutes before. And after that, Maria had gone about her activities in a strangely detached way, like nothing had happened.

Natasha hadn’t found the guts to question her yet, but her patience was beginning to wear thin. Right now, the woman was typing away on her laptop, appearing supremely bored as she went through her emails.

Natasha was sitting in a chair across her in the living room, leafing through a book that she had randomly picked from the brunette’s collection. She kept glancing towards the taller woman surreptitiously, but she didn’t seem to take notice. _Or maybe she’s ignoring me…_

Maria finally looked up from her screen, about a million years later, “What would you like for lunch?” she asked, almost too casually, “Sorry, I lost track of time. We could order in; there are a bunch of pamphlets lying around here, or –”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Natasha cut her off, unable to take it anymore.

Maria pursed her lips and leaned back into her seat, looking genuinely surprised at Natasha’s outburst. And Natasha suddenly felt the urge to punch something, or just do something with her hands.

“Are you…” she began, and then paused to choose her words carefully, “Are you ashamed about what happened earlier?”

Maria didn’t respond but the twitch in her jaw spoke volumes.

Natasha found herself getting increasingly exasperated, “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you’d want to open up to, and I totally get that. I’m not exactly known for being emotionally available, but I’m also not a monster, and you –”

“God, Natasha, please stop,” Maria finally spoke, guilt rippling across her features.

Natasha got up and walked towards her, sitting right beside her on the couch. Maria kept the laptop away before facing her.

“I’m not embarrassed about breaking down,” the brunette said softly, “Neither am I embarrassed about breaking down in front of _you._ ”

“Then why’re you pretending like everything is fine?” Natasha asked immediately, her hand reaching for Maria’s unconsciously.

“Because I don’t want you to feel compelled to comfort me,” Maria replied, exhaling audibly, “You already have your own issues to deal with. I would never want to add mine to that.”

“That’s utter bullshit,” Natasha growled, glaring at the brunette, “My issues do not invalidate yours. And they certainly do not belittle your pain. Don’t let _me_ prevent you from feeling it.”

“Don’t add that crime to my list. I have enough blood on my hands already,” Natasha whispered, her voice hitching towards the end.

Maria’s hand instantly reached out to cup Natasha’s cheek, gently rubbing her jaw, and she realised that she had been gritting her teeth.

“I’m sorry,” the brunette murmured, “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”

Natasha turned her face and placed a kiss on Maria’s palm, “You don’t have to be so tough all the time, Maria,” she said, covering the brunette’s hand with her own, “You have to stop carrying the entire world’s burden on your shoulders. You’ve got to find someone to share it with.”

Natasha paused to look into the brunette’s eyes, “And while it doesn’t have to be me, I want you to know that I wouldn’t mind being that person.”

 _I’m not sure if I can even be that person. But I would try, for you. You’ve been my anchor when I was all but drifting. You’ve saved me more times than_ you _would ever know. If I could give you even a shred of comfort, I would consider myself lucky._

Maria gave her a warm smile – the first genuine one in the whole morning – and leaned forward to peck her lips.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you,” the taller woman hummed, “I don’t know what it is about you, but I trust you.”

“And I trust you,” Natasha echoed almost instantly, “I trust you with my life,” she added before she could stop herself.

Maria winced at the words and recoiled, “Don’t say that, Natasha,” she said, her voice suddenly gruff, “You nearly died of suffocation because I was too slow in getting you out of the smoke,” she bit out, her face turned away from Natasha’s.

Natasha’s grabbed the woman by her collar, making her face her, “Look at me, Hill. You’re one of the most reliable agents we have at S.H.I.E.L.D., you get that?” she said, yanking at the material for emphasis.

“You want to know why I’m so reckless during my ops?” she asked, but continued without waiting for a reply, “Because I know you’re there, watching my back.”

“You’re doing it even when you think you aren’t. Me being here right now – alive and well – is proof of that,” Natasha added, “You’ve come through every single time. Not just for me, but for all the agents under your command. Hell, I’m pretty sure at this point, even _Fury_ trusts you with his life.”

Natasha paused to breathe and saw that Maria had a soft smile on her lips, “Why, that is high praise, Romanoff.”

“It’s a _fact,_ Hill, and I’m not done yet,” Natasha shot back, “Now, I’m no shrink, but I can’t believe that a single incident would render you ‘psychologically unfit,’ so you’ve got to stop beating yourself up. The lieutenant I’ve known all this while is many things, but she is _not_ a wuss.”

Maria eyebrows went up, disappearing behind her bangs, but Natasha was on a roll, “But you’re being one right now, so here’s what you’re going to do,” she said, tugging the brunette closer, “You’re going to enjoy this little break for a week, and then you’re going to get your fine ass back on the Helicarrier. Because at least _I_ need you back there, looking out for me.”

Natasha leaned forward and kissed the woman with a loud smack before pulling back, “And that’s an order, _Agent._ ”

Maria’s face broke out into a mesmerised grin and she drew Natasha in for a slow kiss. And from the gentle yet firm hand on her neck, Natasha knew that she had gotten through to the brunette. That she had managed to get her back on track. Her own hands left Maria’s collar and reached for the woman’s face, deepening the kiss.

Maria suddenly pulled back, panting as she eyed Natasha curiously, “Wait, why a week?”

Natasha grinned cheekily at her, “Because that’s how long _my_ leave is.”


	22. The Web of Joy

## The Widow

"Dammit, Natasha! Come on, hold them tighter."

"I don't know, Maria. I don't think I can do this."

"I know this is a new position, but trust me and try it. You'll thank me later."

"God, I hope I get it in this time."

"Oh, yeah, you're almost there!"

_And_ the piece of red chicken slipped right out of the chopsticks in Natasha’s hand, just a few centimetres away from her mouth. It plunked back into the takeout container, and she saw Maria fail miserably at hiding her smirk. _So much for being a kind and supportive teacher._

They were seated on the hood of Maria’s car, having a rather makeshift dinner. It was the last day of their staycation (of sorts) and they had driven out of the city, for a change. The week had been almost surreal for both, her and Maria. They’d got to experience what a normal life would’ve been like; without the guns and the missions.

At the beginning of the week, they’d gone shopping for Natasha’s clothes – neither wanted to go back to the Helicarrier, for they knew they’d get roped in to do some work – and it had ended up taking the whole day. Because they kept shooting heated glances towards each other every time Natasha tried on something, and then making out in the fitting room like horny teenagers.

Everything had only gone uphill from there.

And so, there they were, having Chinese food under the starry sky, enjoying a final night away from their reality.

“How is it, that you’re able to fling a chopstick across a room and gouge somebody’s eye out with it, when you have to?” Maria said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “But you can’t seem to use them for actually eating?”

“I’ve never really had to, until now,” Natasha replied with a shrug, adjusting the sticks in her hand to try again.

“How is that even possible? I have personally handled your ops in Asia,” Maria said, an eyebrow cocked up in suspicion. Her hand reached out to correct the angle of Natasha’s fingers on the chopsticks.

“Well, I always managed to make it work without learning how to use them,” Natasha mumbled, her mind focused on grabbing a piece of the chicken, “Believe it or not, this one time, I actually got a mobster to _feed_ me the dumplings.”

Maria burst out into laughter beside Natasha, taking her by surprise in the process, and the piece fell right back into the container. Natasha growled exasperatedly and actually threw her hands in the air.

“This is all your fault,” she mock-scolded the brunette, “We were going to stay in, and you were going to cook for me,” she grumbled, making Maria chuckle once again.

“But _you_ wanted to come to this ‘pretty little cliff’ that you’d never been to before, despite living in New York for the past _billion_ years,” Natasha exaggerated, pointing an accusatory finger towards the brunette, “And look how that panned out. I went from a gourmet meal to cheap takeout food.”

Natasha was huffing by the end of her tirade, but it didn’t seem to faze the lieutenant. The brunette simply kept her own food aside and slid off the hood, walking towards the driver’s seat.

Natasha rolled her eyes even though Maria couldn’t see her, “Oh, wow, are you just going to start driving while I’m still _on_ the hood? Come on, Hill, you can’t be –”

She stopped ranting when the taller woman reappeared in front of her. Natasha saw the item in Maria’s hand and her eyes narrowed murderously.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me. You had this with you all this time?” she said, snatching the disposable fork out of the brunette’s hand.

Maria merely smirked back at her, “You know me by now, Romanoff. I _always_ have a backup plan.”

A grin threatened to break out on Natasha’s lips, but she still wanted to have the last word, “Be glad that I’m not gouging _your_ eye out.”

Maria simply jumped back onto the hood, “Nah, you wouldn’t,” she said, quickly pecking Natasha’s cheek as she adjusted her position, “I know you like my eyes way too much, Nat.”

Natasha’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of the nickname, but Maria was too busy concentrating on her food to notice the look of awe on her face. The brunette didn’t seem to realise that it was the first time she had used it. The fact that it happened so naturally was representative of their dynamic thus far.

It wasn’t forced, much like everything else that had transpired between them. Over the week, Natasha had gradually learnt the lieutenant’s quirks and habits, in turn letting Maria know hers. And she’d found herself getting more and more tangled into the brunette’s life.

They’d unknowingly let down their guards, and even after realising it, they hadn’t been scared. It was almost like it was meant to be. Like _they_ were meant to be.

The thought was both alarming and endearing and Natasha didn’t really know what to do with it. But this, right now? This comfort she was feeling – in Maria, not their situation, or the reality they were currently cheating – was real, and Natasha didn’t ever want to let it go.

She was afraid of putting a label on it. Afraid that by making it a _tangible_ thing, she would be more prone to losing it. And while Natasha didn’t know Maria’s take on it, the brunette hadn’t broached the subject just yet. And Natasha was grateful for that.

She gave the taller woman a quick kiss before lapsing into silence and _finally_ eating her food.

* * *

“Romanoff…?”

Natasha was glad that Maria wasn’t loud when she called out to her.

She had insane reflexes and she hardly ever got startled by anyone, but right now, as Natasha balanced herself precariously on the narrow ledge, she was grateful for the brunette’s consideration.

“Nat, what are you doing?” Maria spoke again, “Get down here.”

Natasha planted her feet securely on the ridge before angling herself to face the brunette. She glanced down and saw Maria standing just a few steps away from the wall, her hands on her hips. The not-taller-than-Natasha-for-once woman was looking up at her with amused curiosity.

“You were gone for too long and I got bored,” Natasha replied, an impish grin on her face.

“' _You got bored?_ ’” Maria repeated, her tone teasing, “So you decided to see if you could catwalk across a 15 feet tall wall?”

“I’d told you I liked being high,” Natasha said cheekily, “What did you think I meant?”

“Well then, I must say, I _like_ it when you’re high,” Maria replied, a smirk on her lips, “Although, the view is much better from down here...”

And Natasha instantly got what the brunette meant. Because she was in a position where she had to turn her upper body to look at the woman. Which meant that Maria was essentially looking up at Natasha’s ass.

Natasha wasn’t going to let the brunette win, obviously. But before she could even make any move, her leg slipped off the edge and she was falling, her instincts immediately taking over to make sure she didn’t hit the ground at the wrong angle.

But it wasn’t required.

Within just milliseconds, Natasha found herself colliding with a familiar, toned body. The awkward landing made her elbow unintentionally slam into the person’s – Maria’s, she knew – solar plexus, and the woman let out a pained, “Oof.”

But she held Natasha in her arms, not letting her fall. Natasha extracted the arm that was wedged between them and curled it around Maria’s neck, her other hand almost automatically reaching to tug at the brunette’s collar, her fingers playing with the topmost button of the shirt.

“You didn’t have to catch me, you know,” Natasha breathed, but she swung her legs in the air like an excited child when Maria adjusted her grip.

And the brunette laughed outright at the disparity between the words and the actions.

“Is that so?” Maria said eventually, an eyebrow arched up, “Because I don’t see any resistance from you.”

And then, with a blink of her eye, the brunette left Natasha.

But Natasha was more than prepared this time, and her hand instantly flew out to break the fall. As soon as she touched the ground, Natasha quickly tucked in her shoulders and rolled, managing to end in a squatted position. She promptly stood up, dusting off her jeans as she shot Maria a smug grin.

And the brunette simply looked back at her with a knowing smirk on her face. Like she’d been sure that Natasha wasn’t really going to fall, even though she’d let go of her.

“I’m like a cat, Hill,” Natasha said, sticking out her tongue, “I always manage to land on my feet.”

“Yeah, and you also seem to think that you have 9 lives,” Maria replied, her smile faltering just a bit.

Natasha stared at the brunette for a while, studying the sudden change in her features, and she was speaking before she even knew it, “I kind of wish you hadn’t dropped me, though.”

Natasha bit her lip at the unplanned – and _sappy-as-hell –_ confession. All her life, Natasha had kept her thoughts and feelings to herself, under lock and key. But a single week with Maria, and she was letting everything slip like a leaky faucet. But the brunette was still waiting for her to explain, and Natasha sighed inwardly.

“I just wanted to know if it still felt good to be carried by you,” she said, surprised by the shyness in her own voice, “When I wasn’t… you know, _about to die_.”

Maria shut her eyes instantly and dropped her head. And Natasha realised that this was probably what the brunette had been thinking about as well. Maria kept opening and closing her mouth, trying to form a reply.

The woman gave up eventually, shaking her head, and Natasha walked up to her. She tipped Maria’s chin upwards, looking at her intently as their gazes locked.

Natasha gave the taller woman a weak smile: _I know, you’ve been through a lot because of me._

But Maria shook her head, her eyes soft and firm at the same time: _not because of you. For you._

And Natasha just had to tiptoe and kiss her.

She wondered since when she had become so fluent at reading Maria. She wondered when _Maria_ had been become so good at reading _her._ And Natasha waited for the fear to come. The crippling dread at the realisation of just how much she had opened up to the woman.

But it didn’t.

Instead, Natasha felt surprisingly calm, despite having lowered her walls. Maybe it was because she was sure that Maria would never hurt her. Maybe, she wasn’t losing a part of herself. _Maybe_ , she was gaining a part of Maria. The thought was emboldening, and Natasha found herself kissing the taller woman with renewed passion.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint,” Maria finally hummed against her lips.

Natasha pulled back, a wide smile on her lips, “You never do.”

Maria shot her a blinding grin, “Now that _that’s_ out of the way,” she began, “Care to explain what’s in the mystery box?”

Natasha saw the brunette’s thumb pointing towards the box lying a few feet away from them. It had escaped Natasha’s grip when she’d slipped off the parapet.

Natasha quickly jogged up to it and picked it up, checking that it wasn’t damaged. Once she was satisfied that the contents in it were fine, she turned around and thrust it in the brunette’s direction. Maria eyed it quizzically before taking it and opening it.

“Don’t tell me,” the brunette murmured, obviously liking what she saw, “Is this what you meant by ‘buying me some time?’”

Natasha chuckled and nodded wordlessly, watching fondly as Maria took out the watch from its packaging and admired it.

Over the week, she’d noticed that the lieutenant didn’t own a single casual watch. Maria usually wore her S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued smart watch, but apart from that the brunette only had some old, dysfunctional (and totally lame, in Natasha’s opinion) watches, probably from her teenage years.

And then, just earlier that night, Fury had contacted Maria about recruiting a prospective asset (of course, the Director was making them work even when they were on leave), and it turned out that the guy worked at a fancy accessories showroom upstate. And Natasha’s eyes had fallen on the gorgeous watch in the store.

It was a sleek model; not too feminine for Maria’s taste, but chic and delicate enough to draw attention. Its dial and strap were navy blue – a colour that Natasha believed suited the brunette a little too well – and the inner work was elegant and minimalistic. Just the way she knew Maria liked it.

And the best part was its brand.

Tommy Hilfiger.

_Hill-figer._

Natasha had been almost ecstatic at having stumbled upon it. She was _glad_ that Fury had thrown the job at them.

Natasha had then kept the manager occupied, talking up a storm about getting-the-most-beautiful-watch-for-my-girlfriend-of-three-years, while Maria and Mr Asset went to the back alley to have their above-Natasha’s-clearance-level chat. They’d been gone long enough for the store to close for the day, and Natasha had bought the watch before leaving.

She figured it was a rather thoughtful gift, considering that it did _feel_ like the beginning of a new era in her – their – life. She just hoped the brunette would like it too.

“It’s perfect,” Maria said, her eyes still fixed on the watch, “Specially the Hilfiger label,” she added, “Not sure if that’s meant to be some kind of a joke.”

Natasha wiggled her eyebrows in a classic _what-do-you-think_ gesture, a wicked grin dancing on her lips, and the taller woman laughed fondly. Maria proceeded to wear the watch, and Natasha was struck by how much better it looked on the brunette’s slender wrist.

Maria looked up at Natasha, a half smile tugging at her lips, her eyes widening expectantly. And Natasha returned a warm grin: _it looks great._ The taller woman ducked her head – almost coyly – and beckoned her over.

“Come on,” Maria said, taking Natasha’s hand, “Let’s get back home,” she said, and they started walking towards Maria’s car.

“Could we make another stop first?” Natasha said, threading her fingers through Maria’s, “I’m hungry.”

“ _How even…?_ ” Maria all but exclaimed, genuinely bewildered, “We _just_ had dinner.”

“What can I say, Hill,” Natasha shrugged flippantly, “It takes a lot to satisfy me.”

“Well then, I hope I live up to it,” Maria smiled, throwing her a quick side glance.

Natasha stopped in her tracks, making the brunette halt too, just a foot ahead. Maria turned around to look at Natasha, her brows knitted together in question.

Natasha stepped forward, her face so close to Maria’s, she could see the stars shining in the taller woman’s eyes, “You already have.”

* * *

“How can _vanilla_ be your favourite flavour?” Natasha scoffed as she took her own ice cream cone from the brunette’s hand.

“It’s easy, you can get it anywhere, and you don’t have to do much work with it,” Maria replied rather casually.

“Are we still talking about ice cream?” Natasha quipped, wiggling her eyebrows as she licked her own strawberry sundae suggestively.

Maria shook her head dramatically, “You’re incorrigible.”

“But you like me anyway,” Natasha replied, not missing a beat.

“I…” Maria began and then stopped, her eyes softening, “I do. I _really_ do.”

They grinned at each other before attacking their ice cream.

* * *

Natasha gazed at the city lights whizzing past her.

They were finally done for the day and ideally, they should’ve been heading back home. But Maria had been driving around aimlessly for a while now. And Natasha could guess why. Even she didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that tomorrow, their little bubble was going be popped.

“So, uh, it’s pretty late,” Maria eventually spoke, “We should get back. Unless you have something else you want to do?”

Natasha could hear the hope in the brunette’s voice. She covered her hand on the gear stick, “Just keep driving, Hill.”

She saw the small smile Maria shot her before obeying. And Natasha went back to staring out of the window, her hand still over Maria’s, the warmth reminding her that this wasn’t a dream.

* * *

They had been driving around for quite some time before Maria cleared her throat. Natasha noticed the woman’s stiff posture and she could guess that Maria probably wanted to have ‘The Talk.’

The brunette nudged Natasha’s hand, “Uh, Nat, what are we…” she paused to take a calming breath, “ _Where_ are we going?”

Natasha would have chuckled at just how nervous the lieutenant sounded. But she knew what the question meant. Where are we going _with this_. _With us._

But despite the implied poignancy, Natasha strangely didn’t feel any pressure. To answer definitively. To make any promises. It was perhaps the closest she would get to being at peace.

And it was all because of the woman beside her. Because she knew by now, that Maria would quietly accept almost _any_ answer Natasha gave her, no matter how much it would hurt her. And it just made Natasha want to give her a satisfying reply. She turned to look at Maria, gazing fondly at her.

_With you, I’ll go just about anywhere._

Natasha took the brunette’s hand into hers, giving it a squeeze, “I don’t know about you, but I like where we are right now.”

She saw the brunette’s eyes crinkle with a smile, like she understood all that Natasha couldn’t voice out, and Natasha felt almost giddy with relief.

She brought the taller woman’s hand to lips. The kiss was as much a promise as her words were, “And I don’t plan on going anywhere.”


	23. Trouble in Paradise

_About a month or so later…_

## The Soldier

_Natasha is going to be so mad._

Maria internally cringed at the thought as she watched the medic sew a gash extending from her wrist to her elbow. She finagled her phone from her pocket and tracked the redhead’s location. The Quinjet carrying Natasha and her team was supposed to return to the Helicarrier in about 10 minutes.

Which meant that Maria had about 12 minutes before she would be _killed_ by the tiny assassin. _Enjoy these final moments, Hill._

But despite the mess she was caught in, Maria couldn’t help the silly grin on her face as she thought of the redhead.

It was a month and half since that dreamlike week. They hadn’t gone back to Maria’s house, but they took turns sleeping together in each other’s quarters at the Helicarrier. She was practically living with Natasha – to whatever extent, given their jobs – and things were surprisingly going good between them.

Not too many people at S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about them yet (the sneaking into each other’s rooms was carefully planned by Natasha), and so, they had kept up their banter to maintain secrecy. But even that was fun and _oh-so-hot_. And inevitably, they’d had their fair share of dirty office sex, making full use of Maria’s large desk (and the magical feature of her cabin to make the walls turn opaque).

They’d also gone out for quiet date nights whenever they could, stealing a sliver of normalcy in their otherwise crazy lives. And it was at those times that Maria had felt like bringing up _the_ topic. About giving their relationship a name.

Being a detail-oriented person, Maria wasn’t very comfortable staying in the grey area, but she had chickened out every time. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing and drive Natasha away. They both knew it was more than just sex, and maybe, that was enough.

It hadn’t been all rainbows and sunshine, obviously.

Maria had spent several nights hugging Natasha to herself when she’d wake up trembling and gasping, tortured by yet another nightmare. And the way the tiny spy would snuggle deeper into her chest as she sobbed softly would tug at Maria’s heart. She’d never felt more powerless, unable to do anything to free the redhead of her torment.

Yet, somehow, Natasha would calm down in minutes, and she would always, _always,_ smile at Maria. Her eyes would shine with gratitude and Maria would have to fight the urge to look away, knowing fully well that she didn’t deserve the credit.

They fought too, just like every other couple did. When either one was being stubborn or just, plain unreasonable. But they always managed to come back to each other. Like they knew what they had was worth preserving.

All in all, everything was great.

At times, Maria couldn’t believe just how much her life had changed since Natasha had come into it. Fury had actually caught her _smiling_ a couple of times when she’d been sketching some mission plans. She thought it was all too good to be true, and it was almost as if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 _And this might just be it,_ Maria thought to herself as her focus returned to her current predicament.

She barely let the medic beside her finish making the last stitch and patching up the wound before swatting him away. She checked her phone again and braced herself for the furious redhead who would barge into her office any second now.

When the door was thrown open, however, it wasn’t by Natasha.

“Hill,” Fury paused to nod at the medic who scampered out of the office, “What’s the sitrep?”

“He got away, yet again,” Maria sighed, “He somehow knew that the Widow wasn’t with us.”

“This is the third time, Hill!” the Director growled frustratedly, “Why is it so damn hard for us to bring in _one_ killer?”

“With all due respect, Sir,” Maria began, trying to sound confident, “I think we both know that it hasn’t got much to do with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s competence.”

She saw Fury’s eye twitch and she continued, “If he really is who we suspect him to be, then it is quite understandable; the ease with which he evades us.”

And before Fury could open his mouth, Maria rushed with her next point, “Which is why I think it is finally time to involve Romanoff in this.”

“That’s exactly what he _wants,_ Hill!” Fury all but yelled.

“Precisely, Sir. We have to lure him out with the bait,” Maria replied, making sure she didn’t flinch at his tone, “It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I feel like it might be our only option right now. Because I have a hunch as to why everything we’ve tried so far hasn’t worked.”

Furry scrubbed a hand over his face, his physique radiating exasperation, “Do explain.”

“Notice how all three times we tried to get the guy, we were met with a complete dead end,” Maria began, “When we got to the locations, they didn’t look like anybody had ever been there. Possibly for _months._ ”

Fury’s eyebrows went up and Maria continued, “If he’d found out that Romanoff wasn’t with us and _then_ scrammed, he would have left at least some signs of the place being occupied,” she explained, “But there weren’t any. Not even in the 5-mile radius around those locations.”

“Not just that, he’d conveniently managed to tip off local gang members about our presence,” Maria added, “He was getting them to do his menial work after leaving,” she said and then waited, letting the Director process all her observations.

“My theory is that he was _never there_ , to begin with,” Maria said eventually, “And the reason he knew that the Widow wasn’t with us is because he knows that Romanoff is the only one who can track his _actual_ location.”

Fury’s visible eye widened at that as he considered Maria’s point. It was a hypothesis she had been dabbling with for a while, and the more she contemplated it, the more it seemed to make sense.

“So, I suggest we bring the Widow in on this,” Maria said after a bit, “It’s a gamble I’m willing to take.”

It was a blatant lie. If it were possible, she would keep Natasha galaxies away from this. But of course, when had things ever gone her way.

Fury sighed, his shoulders sagging almost imperceptibly, “Are we sure that Agent Romanoff will be able to… _handle_ this mission?” he asked, choosing his words carefully.

“Of course, Sir,” Maria replied instantly, because if anything, Natasha was an excellent agent, “She has proven her prowess time and again.”

“But it’s different this time, Hill, and you know it,” Fury said, his voice lined with just a bit of emotion, “Romanoff is a far too valuable an agent to lose.”

Maria smiled to herself. She knew that the Director was secretly very fond of the tiny assassin. In his own, strict, no-Romanoff-you-can’t-use-knives-in-an-interrogation way. And she knew where Fury was coming from. But they had run out of choices.

“And we _won’t_ , Sir,” Maria said, the words escaping without her volition.

It wasn’t a promise, because promises could be broken. It was a declaration.

 _Of all the ways to go, this_ _will not be the one. Not while I breathe._

The office was deathly silent for a full minute when nobody spoke, and the Director’s eye was fixed on Maria as he studied her. Not a muscle moved on his face until he finally rubbed his eyebrow.

“Fine, we’ll do this your way,” Fury stated, “Brief Romanoff once she’s back and then come to me with the mission plan.”

He barely acknowledged Maria’s nod before turning around, proceeding to leave. He’d just taken a few steps when the door was thrown open and a whirlwind of red barrelled into the office.

“Okay, what the _fu–_ uh, _Fury_ , I mean, Sir,” Natasha stuttered, not expecting the Director to be here.

Maria was almost glad she didn’t have to bear the brunt of the redhead’s actual sentence. She saw Fury give her a curt nod before he marched out of the office, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, fully aware of what was going to follow.

The shorter woman waited for the door to fully close before her gaze shifted towards Maria. She started walking towards her, boots stomping purposefully in the way she knew Maria hated, and her eyes narrowed murderously as they zeroed in on Maria’s wounded hand.

But Maria knew that wasn’t what the redhead was going to be mad about.

“You want to tell me what’s going on, Hill?” Natasha spat out when she was close enough, “Because this was the _third_ time the target location for my mission was changed at the last minute. And not by a few miles, but by a few _countries_.”

Maria opened her mouth to explain, but the Russian beat her to it, “Don’t give me any bullshit about bad intel,” she said, putting out her palm in front of Maria, “I know you, and you don’t do sloppy work.”

“Look, Maria, I know something is up,” Natasha said, her voice softening just a bit, “I’ve known for quite some time. But I trusted you to tell me if it was related to me.”

Maria had known that the spy must have figured out that something wasn’t right. But she could see an odd distress on the shorter woman’s face, and she waited for her to finish.

Natasha’s eyes darted around for a bit before settling back on Maria, “And honestly, I’m not sure if it is related to me, but I still need to know what’s happening.”

The Russian wrung her hands in a very un-Natasha-like way before speaking again, “I don’t really know why, and I can’t really explain it, but I have a bad feeling about this, and I-I’m worried about you, and I can’t –”

“Hey, hey, easy, Nat,” Maria eventually stopped her, slightly amused by the tiny agent’s concern.

She held the redhead’s chin in a gentle grip and tipped her face upwards, staring into her green eyes as she smiled reassuringly. Maria saw Natasha’s features relax a bit and widened her grin.

But it died pretty soon when she remembered her conversation with Fury. Maria sighed as she cupped the shorter woman’s cheek.

“You aren’t wrong, you know,” she revealed, “It _is_ related to you.”

Natasha’s eyes instantly flashed with anger and she stepped out of Maria’s hold, “What the hell, Maria?” she said, her voice back to being gruff, “How could you –” she breathed to calm herself, “Okay, you’re going to tell me what’s going on. Right. Now.”

Maria could see that Natasha was barely restraining her rage, and it made her even more nervous. She stepped forward and took the redhead’s hands in hers, “It’s…”

“ _Tell me,_ Maria,” Natasha said through gritted teeth, trying to wrestle herself out of Maria’s grip.

But Maria held her firmly and looked deep into Natasha’s eyes, knowing just how much her words were going to weigh down on the redhead, “It’s the Red Room.”

* * *

Natasha’s hands went slack, and she stopped struggling, “It’s… _what?_ ”

Maria nodded dejectedly, “It’s connected to the Red Room. At least, that’s our hunch.”

This time, Maria allowed the redhead to extract herself from her hold, “What are you saying, Maria? _What_ is connected to the Red Room?” Natasha asked, and Maria could her the slight quiver in her voice, “Tell me everything. From the top. And please, no more lies.”

Maria sighed before beginning, “It started many weeks ago. A certain serial killer popped up on our radar,” she said and moved towards her desk to bring her tablet.

“Since when is S.H.I.E.L.D. interested in low-level murderers?” Natasha asked.

“You’re right, we aren’t,” Maria answered, coming back to where Natasha was standing, “But seems like this one wanted to gain our attention.”

She fiddled with her tablet to bring up the desired documents, “He killed his victims with a standard slice to the throat, but their autopsy reports show minute – almost undetectable – traces of venom in their blood,” Maria explained, “Venom from a _particular species_ of spiders.”

The realisation instantly dawned upon the redhead.

Maria continued after a bit, “Coincidently, all his targets were in regions that are known habitats of black widow spiders, and so the detail was brushed aside in most of the local investigations. But my guess is that the blade was lined with the poison.”

Natasha took the tablet from Maria’s hands to study the documents herself. Her brows furrowed after a while and she looked up to Maria.

“Are you sure you aren’t reading too much into it? Look at this,” the redhead said, pointing to a list in the report, “His victims are spread _across the globe_.”

“Seems a little far-fetched to go through so much effort to kill all these people, just to get us interested,” Natasha pondered.

Maria gave her grim smile, “Yeah, I’d thought so too. But then I found _this_ ,” she said, taking the tablet back.

Maria configured the settings such that a map of the world was projected onto one of the walls. She ran some more commands on the device and the locations of the killer’s victims appeared on the map as red-coloured dots. She tinkered with the tablet one last time and a red line materialised on the map, joining the dots.

The hourglass shape that it formed was unmistakable.

The Black Widow’s insignia.

Natasha tried to suppress it, but Maria heard the hitched breath. All this was downright creepy even for her, and she couldn’t imagine what the redhead was thinking.

“Subtle, huh?” Natasha murmured beside her.

“Yeah, so we ran checks on some of the guys from your past missions, to see if this was a matter of revenge, but no one seems to be involved,” Maria said, “So, Fury and I had to make a guess that it was somehow related to the Red Room.”

Maria went on to explain the failed missions they’d been on, in pursuit of the assassin. She then told Natasha about Fury’s decision to include her in this.

“So, you’ve been sending me on these decoy ops, while you guys were chasing someone who’s _clearly_ after me?” Natasha asked quietly, but her eyes betrayed her fury.

“What the hell were you even thinking?” the Russian eventually growled, “That you could just take the guy out, without even letting me know, and I’d be saved the pain?”

Maria’s hands reached out to hold Natasha, but she jerked back, “I don’t need your damn protection!” she all but yelled, making Maria wince.

“That’s not what this is, Natasha,” Maria tried to explain.

“You _lied_ to me, Maria,” the redhead said, hurt slipping into her voice, “You’ve _been lying_ for so many weeks.”

“I…” Maria paused, knowing Natasha’s anger was justified, “It was Fury’s order to keep you away from this.”

Her shoulders sagged, like she didn’t have any better explanation to offer. But she knew Natasha deserved more, “And it wasn’t that he – or I – thought that you were too weak to deal with this.”

“But we’re talking about _the Red Room_ here,” Maria said emphatically, and Natasha’s eyes shut close involuntarily.

Maria shifted forward slowly and ran a tentative hand through the Russian’s bangs, “I know what the place did to you, and you’ve endured it once,” she murmured, “And I know you can do it again.”

Natasha opened her eyes, and Maria felt a twinge in her heart at the sight of her glassy emeralds. She gave the redhead a sad smile before continuing, “But just because you _can_ doesn’t mean you _have to._ ”

“Because _I’m_ not strong enough to watch you go through it again,” Maria breathed, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the shorter woman’s.

Natasha’s lips parted, like she wanted to say something, but then thought against it and tiptoed to press her lips against Maria’s. Maria kissed her back eagerly, her fingers tangling into Natasha’s hair.

The Russian bit down hard on Maria’s lip, as if intending to punish her one last time for keeping her in the dark for so long, but Maria only smiled and deepened the kiss.

“Barton owes me 50 bucks, by the way, thanks to you,” Natasha hummed, pulling apart eventually.

“How’s that?” Maria asked, still breathless from the kiss.

“I’d told him that you were up to something, and that Fury was in on it,” the redhead said, her eyes _finally_ sparkling again, “But the moron thought you were going to pr…”

Natasha let it trail off and Maria had to knit her eyebrows in confusion. The redhead only shook her head, dismissing it, a slight blush suddenly colouring her cheeks. But Maria decided to drop it. She was just glad that Natasha wasn’t mad at her anymore.

Maria stepped away from Natasha, reaching for her desk to place the tablet back on to it, “Yeah, well, I’d told Fury it would be impossible to hide it from you,” she said, her hands absentmindedly adjusting the stuff on the table.

“What even made him think it would be easy to hide stuff from your girlfriend when she’s the freaking _Black Widow_ …?” Maria said, smiling obliviously as she turned around.

She finally looked at the shorter woman’s face and her grin immediately dropped when she saw her shocked expression. Maria seemed to realise what she’d said only then, and she just waited for the redhead’s response.

Natasha shot her tiny smile eventually, “ _Girlfriend_ , huh?” she asked, her voice small, but calm, “How long have you kept that in?”

Maria scratched the back of her neck nervously, “It’s not like – it doesn’t have to be a big deal,” she stuttered, “We don’t have to put any label on it. I’m perfectly fine with the way things are right now. I don’t want to push us into something that –”

“Relax, Maria,” Natasha said, her hand reaching out to rub Maria’s arm, “It’s okay, I like it.”

“I… I’ve been meaning to have this conversation for a while now,” the redhead added, “But I’ve never really been in a real relationship before, and I wasn’t sure how this is done,” she said, gazing fondly into Maria’s eyes.

“So, tell me,” Natasha pressed on, “When did you start thinking of me as your-girlfriend-Natasha _?_ ” she asked, mirth dancing in her green orbs.

Maria’s lips instantly turned up into a sheepish smile, “I’ve pretty much considered you my girlfriend since the day I allowed you to have ice cream in my beloved Chevrolet, and didn’t shoot you for spilling some of it on the seat.”

“Hey! I also cleaned it up!” Natasha mock-protested, lightly punching Maria’s uninjured arm.

“ _Sure_ , you did,” Maria smirked back at her.

“The stain is barely visible,” the redhead grumbled.

Maria chuckled at her adorable expression, and Natasha sighed eventually, her eyes gleaming with affection.

“I’m your girlfriend,” the redhead said, her voice filled with awe, “And you’re mine.”

Maria’s breath caught at the words, “I am.”

_I am yours, for as long as you’ll have me. And even beyond that._

They stared at each other for a while, before Natasha stepped forward and hugged Maria, hiding her face in the crook of Maria’s neck.

“God, we’re such idiots,” Natasha chuckled breathlessly, “It took us way too long to get here.”

Maria smiled at that and tilted her head to nuzzle the shorter woman’s hair with her cheek. But the movement made her eyes fall on the map that was still projected on the wall.

And just like that, the moment was over, and her mind was back to the problem at hand. Maria broke apart reluctantly, still keeping her arms around the redhead.

“As much as I would like to call it a day and take _my girlfriend_ out for dinner,” she said, making Natasha smile, “We still have a killer on the loose. A killer who’s after you.”

“So, I need you to be _just_ Natasha Romanoff right now,” Maria said, “The flawless agent who’s too cocky for her own good.”

She waited for the Russian to grin before continuing, “I need you to work your magic and find the bastard. So that _we_ can take him down.”

Natasha shuffled closer, crossing her hands behind Maria’s neck as her lips curved up, despite the situation. Almost automatically, Maria’s hands shifted to rest on the redhead’s hips, and she returned the smile.

If a song started playing right then, she could have her first dance with her girlfriend.

“Yeah, _we._ That’s better,” Natasha murmured, her fingers lightly scratching the base of Maria’s neck, “Whatever happens, we’re going to face it together. This isn’t going to be a solo-trip anymore, you get that?”

The tightness in Maria’s throat was suddenly too much for her, and she had to diffuse the tension, “Jeez, Romanoff, are you going to be one of those nagging girlfriends?”

“You’ll see, Hill,” Natasha smirked, but her eyes betrayed her worry, “When we’re done with this op, you’ll see.”

Yeah, Maria liked the sound of that. _When,_ not _if._ She could work with that.

But when Natasha leaned forward to kiss her, her lips quivering just slightly against Maria’s, she had to force herself to stay strong. Because she knew that nothing about this mission was going to be even remotely easy.

_God, I really hope I get a chance to have that dance._


	24. Love is in the Air

## The Widow

Natasha followed the lieutenant as they marched towards the Quinjet.

She could hear Clint and Jones at her heels, but her attention was focused on the brunette in front of her. Natasha could see the tenseness in the set of Maria’s shoulders, and she knew just how stressed she was. But she was so nervous herself, she couldn’t possibly help the taller woman.

It had been a crazy flurry of days, but Natasha had managed to track down the mystery killer. Maria had granted her access to any resources she required, and she had worked along with the agents from IT tirelessly for hours.

Natasha had almost literally breathed down their necks as they ran program after program to scavenge for the slightest hint of information. If those agents had been afraid of her before this, they were absolutely _terrified_ now. Natasha didn’t even remember what exactly had worked in the end, but they’d managed to find him.

And of course, the nameless bastard was holed up in Russia. Smack dab in the middle of the coldest woods of the country. _Of. Fucking. Course._

That had been enough to hit the nail on the coffin about this being related to the Red Room.

_God, I hate that saying._

It had been quick work from there, with Maria whipping up the plan and Fury immediately sanctioning it, all in a day. Initially, though, there hadn’t been much _to_ plan. Maria had been pretty clear: take the guy out, no questions asked. There wasn’t going to be any negotiation.

And for once, Natasha, wished it could stay that way.

But she knew that they couldn’t let their emotions take over. And she had convinced the lieutenant to try to bring the guy in. Because he could possess intel about other such dormant operatives of the Red Room.

Maria had huffed and puffed about it and they had eventually come to a middle ground: gather information – in any form, whether it was from computers, servers, whatever they could lay their hands on – and _then_ confront the guy. That way, if things went to hell (which they inevitably were going to, because when did they _not_ ), they would still have something to work with.

But this whole op was making her skin crawl. She kept feeling like she’s forgotten something. And Natasha wasn’t used to that. She’d always walked into her missions with confidence and swagger. But right now, Natasha just had the uncontrollable urge to scream _._

Maria chose that exact moment to stop abruptly and turn around. Natasha was a fair distance away from her, and that was the only reason she didn’t bump into her. The brunette looked beyond Natasha, giving the two agents behind her a curt nod, and then her gaze fixed on Natasha.

And even amidst the swirling uncertainty in the blue sapphires, Natasha could see something else shining bright and clear. Determination. Uncontrived and unwavering. Natasha knew, right at that moment, that the woman would die for her, if it ever came to that.

And Natasha would do the same for her.

Maria shot her a tight smile before turning around and entering the Quinjet. But Natasha stood rooted at her spot until Clint gently nudged her. She continued walking, but an indescribable feeling was coursing within her, filling her and emptying her at the same time.

Clint matched his step with hers and gave her weird look, and Natasha realised she was smiling. She simply shook her head and followed the brunette into the Quinjet, the grin still on her face, making his eyebrows shoot up.

“What could you _possibly_ be happy about, Tasha?” Clint muttered, genuinely concerned for her sanity.

“Nothing, really,” Natasha replied, her gaze tracking Maria fondly as she flitted in and out of the cockpit, “It’s just a good day to die.”

* * *

Natasha was pacing in the aisle of the Quinjet. They were still an hour or so away from the godforsaken forest and she needed to do _something._

The two men were away in the cockpit, and Maria was standing away from the seats, staring out of the window, her posture stiff and unmoving. Natasha wondered just how one could even stay that still.

_Must be the military discipline…_

“For the love of God, Romanoff,” Maria finally bit out, still not facing her, “You’re driving me crazy with the stomping.”

_Banter. Distraction. Good._

“I could drive you crazy in other ways,” Natasha shot back, making the brunette finally turn around.

“Jones and Barton are right there,” the brunette smirked, pointing towards the cockpit with a jut of her chin, “One’s a child and the other acts like one most of the time. Not _quite_ the audience I’d put on a show for.”

Natasha’s laugh lasted all but 4 seconds before the nervousness hit her once again. Maria sighed and came to her, holding her arms in a tender but firm grip.

“Relax, Nat,” she said, her voice soft, “We can’t get in over our heads.”

“I know, but I just can’t deal with the waiting anymore,” Natasha said, her eyes darting around, “Maybe we could go through the floor plans once again –”

“You’ve got them memorised and you know it,” the taller woman cut her off.

“Yes, but all we know is that it’s an old, unregistered facility,” Natasha retorted, “What if it turns out to be a freaking dungeon?”

She knew she was being paranoid and silly, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never gotten this worked up about a mission before.

“Jesus, Nat, _breathe,_ ” Maria whispered, “ _Please._ ”

Natasha’s shoulders sagged, “I know. It’s just…”

“I know,” Maria said, her gaze flickering for a just a second.

_It’s the fucking Red Room._

The name sent a jolt of fear through Natasha and she stepped away from the brunette, resuming the pacing. She’d finished six rounds when her hands flew to her face as she remembered something.

“ _Fuck!_ The software on the flash drive,” Natasha gasped, making Maria’s head whip towards her, “I forgot to activate the additional –”

“Secure channel for transferring the data?” Maria supplied, and Natasha nodded shakily, “Yeah, I noticed that when I was doing the final checks. I told the IT guys to put it in place. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to corrupt the drive in any way.”

Natasha blew out a sigh of relief, her eyes shining at her girlfriend. Of course, the lieutenant had been thorough in her observation. She didn’t make the same mistake twice.

Natasha’s feet worked without her volition, taking her towards the brunette. She reached Maria and rose on her toes to nip her jaw. The taller woman closed her eyes and let Natasha continue her ministrations.

Natasha’s lips soon found Maria’s and she hummed the words before she could stop herself, “ _God, I love you_.”

Maria’s eyes snapped opened and her breath hitched. Her gaze kept drifting all over Natasha’s face, like she was waiting for her to take it back or cover it up.

But Natasha realised she didn’t want to.

It was suddenly obvious to her. Of course, she loved Maria. That’s what all this was. The unparalleled feeling of being safe when she was with her. The way she no longer felt like running, even from herself.

Natasha gently ran a hand down the woman’s jaw, and she found Maria’s wide eyes locked with hers, begging Natasha to say the words.

“I’m in love with you,” Natasha whispered, the admission sending a shiver down her own body, “Irrefutably, irrevocably in love with you.”

Maria’s gaze instantly softened and her lips turned up into a trembling smile. She opened her mouth to say something but ended up shaking her head and chuckling breathlessly. And Natasha was rather proud to have rendered the lieutenant speechless.

Giving up trying to speak, the brunette rushed forward to kiss Natasha. She didn’t need to hear it from Maria; Natasha could feel it in the way the taller woman’s lips moved reverently against hers; the transcendent joy as Maria poured every ounce of her being into the kiss.

“I…” Maria eventually murmured, breaking apart to look at Natasha, “I love you.”

And Natasha didn’t know she could actually be this happy. She beamed up at Maria, pecking her lips quickly, and pulled her into a hug, her heart bursting with bliss. An asteroid could have hit the planet and wiped out all the life around her, and Natasha wouldn’t have cared.

“I’m glad I could tell you before the op started,” Maria whispered after a bit, “I would’ve hated it if… if I never got the chance.”

Natasha pulled back immediately, her gaze fixed on the brunette’s face, “That’s not why I said it,” she said, green eyes clashing with blue, “This is not some hurried, heat-of-the-moment confession.”

Maria only stared at her, surprised by the sudden vehemence. Natasha sighed as she prepared an explanation.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while. I could only _see_ it now,” she said, her voice small, “I guess, I was just scared to accept it all these months. Even to myself.”

Natasha stepped back into the brunette’s embrace, yearning for the comfort that she found in Maria’s arms. And so that the taller woman couldn’t see her face as she said the next part.

“When I was growing up at the Red Room, there was this girl I knew,” Natasha began, “She was older than me and I don’t remember her name.”

Maria’s arms instinctively tightened around her, like she sensed this was a difficult topic, and Natasha found the strength to go on.

“I remember what she’d told me once,” she mumbled, unconsciously placing her palm over the brunette’s heart, “That love is like water. You can let it run through your fingers, feel it, let it soothe you. But you can’t catch it.”

Maria stayed quiet for so long, Natasha thought she wasn’t going to say anything. But she eventually dropped a kiss on Natasha’s forehead.

“I guess, that’s what glasses are for,” Maria joked.

And Natasha just had to laugh at that.

Maria continued after a bit, “I get what you mean, though. I used to feel the same way,” she hummed, her voice heavy with emotions, “You weren’t even mine back then, and yet, I kept losing you,” she whispered, her voice cracking at the end.

Natasha pulled back and instantly captured Maria’s lips, her hand shaking as she cupped the brunette’s cheek. It was really the only thing she could do. Because they still couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t lose each other. All they had was here and _now._

Maria broke apart suddenly, “Did you say _‘months?’_ ”

Natasha chuckled even as she caught her breath. Trust the lieutenant to fixate on the details even at a time like this. She looked up to meet the taller woman’s gaze, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“I always liked you, Hill, but I think I started falling for you during _that_ mission,” Natasha said, and she could see the look of recognition on Maria’s face.

She was talking about the mission that had started it all. The mission that had set the ball rolling.

“I was a complete brat to you, and I outright insulted you. And yet, you came there to get us,” Natasha continued, her smile widening.

“ _You came there_ , Maria,” Natasha repeated, her voice just above a whisper, “No one had ever watched my back like that,” she smiled, “So… _graciously_.”

But the brunette shook her head, “I didn’t come there for you. Or even the team, for that matter,” she said, making Natasha’s forehead crease in confusion.

“I came there for _myself,_ ” Maria said, her gaze fractured, “I couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on. I needed to do something. It would’ve killed me if I just –”

“I know,” Natasha said, rubbing her hand over the brunette’s arm soothingly. She knew where Maria’s fears stemmed from.

Maria simply sighed and took Natasha back into a hug. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the taller woman’s shoulder, her mind finally calm and relaxed. Maria held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and Natasha felt like she could conquer the universe.

They stayed in the embrace for the longest time, savouring every second of the intimacy.

* * *

They only became conscious of the world around them when Clint came out and cleared his throat.

“Do you two, uh, need a minute?” he said, barely containing his Santa-got-me-a-puppy grin.

Maria tried to pull out of the hug, but Natasha held her in place. She loved the woman, and she wasn’t going to shy away from it.

“It’s cute how you think we’ll need a _full minute_ for what I had in mind,” Natasha said, tilting her head as she smirked back at Clint, an eyebrow cocked up provocatively.

Maria’s cheeks instantly went red, while Clint’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. And Natasha somehow managed to stifle her laugh at their reactions. She waited for a bit, thoroughly enjoying herself as she watched both of them squirm.

"Unbunch your panties, Barton,” Natasha finally spoke, “I meant _suiting up_.”

Maria chuckled into her hair, and Clint only mumbled about the Quinjet reaching the location soon before trudging back into the cockpit, tail between his legs.

“I love it when you do that,” Maria breathed once Clint was out of earshot, her eyes shining with mirth, “I love _you._ ”

“And I love you,” Natasha echoed, like she couldn’t say it enough.

Maria flashed her a grin before they broke apart and started getting geared up.

* * *

True to Natasha’s word, they got suited up in record time. They helped each other with their Kevlars, simply because the needed the proximity, and they were good to go just as the Quinjet began its descent.

Natasha checked her weapons one last time before Maria’s hand found hers and gave it a light squeeze. They stood there, side by side, hand in hand, ready to face whatever the mission had in store for them. Together.

The aircraft was just about to touch down when Maria looked over to her, “Hey, Nat…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Kiss me?”

And this time, nothing could’ve possibly stopped Natasha from obeying.


	25. One Finger on the Trigger

## The Soldier

“Hurry up, Romanoff!” Maria whisper-yelled, her eyes scanning around for threats, the gun in her hand already trained in front of her.

“I’m _trying,_ ” Natasha muttered behind her, “The bastard’s got way more intricate encryption on this thing than I expected.”

Maria could hear the redhead’s fingers rapidly flying over the keyboard, and she knew that Natasha was modifying her algorithm on the fly. She prayed that the spy would figure it out faster.

They’d gotten to the building – more like a dilapidated structure – and even though it had been empty when they reached, it was obviously where their killer was working from. She had gone deeper into the place with Natasha while Jones and Barton were patrolling outside the premises, keeping a lookout for incoming threats.

She and Natasha had found the main room, which was a poorly managed office with the computers and monitors and the labyrinth of wires. And it was a fucking goldmine of information. There was so much of it – locations, identities, plans of inert operations, other obscure details – that Maria feared they wouldn’t have enough time to gather all of it.

She hadn’t heard from either of the men so far, which meant there wasn’t any imminent danger. And she wondered just how much longer their luck was going to last. The shiver that coursed through Maria’s body wasn’t only because of the freezing Russian cold.

“Yes!” Natasha whooped as quietly as she could, “It’s done! I did it!”

Maria whipped around and saw the triumphant grin on the redhead’s face. And when she bent forward to peck the spy’s lips, she couldn’t even help it.

She was always amazed by Natasha’s ability to improvise and make things work even when everything seemed to be headed south. She just wouldn’t accept defeat. It was one of the many things Maria loved about her.

“Barton, Jones,” Maria spoke into her earpiece, “Change of plans. Head back to the evac point. We’re not going to wait for the target.”

It was something that she and Natasha had decided when they had realised just how much data they had stumbled upon. That kind information was far too valuable to risk losing in a confrontation. They could catch the guy later. Right now, it was important to get that flash drive back to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Maria waited for Natasha to put the flash drive securely inside one of her pockets before motioning towards the exit of the room. They had gotten out of the room when they heard garbled noise over the comms.

“Uh, guys, it’s too late for that,” Barton’s voice came in, making them stop in their tracks, “The party has arrived.” 

Almost immediately, they heard a volley of shots being fired outside, and the two of them broke into a sprint. From the shattered windows of the corridors they dashed across, Maria could see what Barton meant by ‘party.’

There was a small army of gunmen, dressed fully in black – pretty dumb of them, considering that they stuck out like sore thumbs in the snow-covered surroundings – and they looked like insects crawling in through the gates.

Maria’s aim wasn’t as perfect as Hawkeye’s, but it was still good. And she managed to land all the shots she fired even as they ran out of the building.

They could see Jones behind one of pillars, firing carefully and strategically. And Barton was… somewhere. Maria knew he was nearby, but she figured he kept changing positions as his arrows materialised from a new point almost every time. She and Natasha split up to find their own spots and join the fight.

Maria found hers quickly and assumed her position, her training taking over as she aimed and fired almost instinctively. Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw one of the men aim his gun towards Natasha, who was still out in the open, and she was just about to fire at him when he pulled the trigger.

But the redhead had razor-sharp reflexes and she managed to dive sideward, smoothly rolling out of the bullet’s way and right behind a wall. Maria didn’t waste another second and shot at the man, watching in satisfaction as his body dropped to the floor.

Maria risked a glance towards Natasha, and saw her staring back at her, her teeth gritting together as she nodded reassuringly.

They both shifted their focus back to the fight, and their bodies went on autopilot as they gunned down the men, slowly but surely.

* * *

It didn’t last for long.

Soon, there was nothing left of the sea of black except for the bodies littered in the snow, and Maria exhaled audibly, her gun still ready in her grip. She held up her hand for Natasha and Jones to see, indicating for them to stay in their positions.

“Barton, come in,” Maria muttered into the earpiece, panting as she caught her breath, “Do you have a visual of the periphery? Are there any more coming in? ”

Barton’s breathless voice rang out after a bit, “No, that seems about it.”

Maria dropped her hand beside her, walking out of her cover spot, and saw Jones do the same. She noticed Natasha limp, her body almost doubling over in pain, and she quickly moved towards her.

“Not again,” the redhead grunted, leaning against the wall for support and Maria quickly squatted down to take a look. She cursed under her breath at the sight of the bloody scrapes around the inflamed ankle.

Maria felt the skin tentatively, making Natasha wince, “Sorry, Nat, I have to check if it’s broken.”

Barton had come over to them by that time and he whistled at the sight of the redhead’s wound, “Whoa, how’re you going to walk in that?”

Natasha snorted in response, “ _Not_ gracefully, for once,” she muttered, and Maria just had to chuckle at her girlfriend’s sass.

She stood up once she was convinced that it wasn’t a fracture, “Okay, guys, we need to move now.”

Maria wanted to offer her hand to Natasha, but she held back, not knowing if the spy would appreciate her help. But Natasha seemed to realise early enough that it wasn’t going to work any other way. She sighed and switched the gun to her other hand, looking over to Maria, who readily held her now-free hand as they began shuffling out.

* * *

They had just stepped out, the snow getting crunched under their boots, when a tall, middle-aged man walked through the gate, flanked by two other men who were armed with semi-automatics.

The agents staggered to a stop, their own guns raised in front of them in a flash. He was obviously the man they’d come here for, and Maria’s fingers curled tighter around the trigger.

The man looked up, his gaze fixed on Natasha, and his lips curved into a sneer, “I knew you’d find me, _myshka._ ”

Maria felt a stab of anger at the tender word, and she wanted to unload the entire magazine into the man. But Natasha stumbled backward just a bit, her breath hitching audibly. Maria glanced at her from the corner of her eye and saw the look of recognition on the shorter woman’s face.

“ _Alexei,_ ” Natasha whispered, leaving Maria’s wrist to ball her own hand into a fist.

And cold dread settled in the pit of Maria’s stomach. Because she knew the name.

Alexei Shostakov. Soviet test pilot who eventually became the Red Guardian.

And former husband of Natalia Alianovna Romanova.

* * *

Maria’s mind was reeling and her hand around the gun trembled ever so slightly. _Why is he back now?_

Shostakov slid his hands into his coat pockets casually, like he wasn’t facing the barrels of 4 guns all at once.

“Sorry for the not-so-warm welcome,” he said, looking straight at Natasha, as if the rest of them weren’t even there.

“I wanted our meeting to be more… _intimate,_ ” Shostakov smirked, “Without any uninvited guests,” he added, glancing condescendingly towards Maria.

“What _do_ you want, Shostakov?” Maria growled.

She could see the man raise his eyebrows, seemingly impressed that Maria knew who he was. But it barely affected his demeanour.

“You know my name, Agent. You can guess what I want,” he taunted, his gaze raking over Natasha.

Maria could feel her rage growing by the second. She kept glaring at Shostakov, trying to guess his agenda. And for a while, the two teams just stared at each other.

“Well, I have space for only 1, so I have to get rid of the rest of you,” Shostakov said suddenly.

And before either of them could do anything, Shostakov looked dead at Natasha and spoke loudly, his voice echoing ominously in the snow:

_“There’s only one sun - but it travels the world everyday.  
This sun is all mine and I won’t ever give it away.  
I will share not an hour of warmth, not a beam of its light!  
I’ll let cities perish in the constant, unchangeable night!”_

The sheer absurdity of the words had all four agents frozen in their spots.

They were Russian, and Maria could understand them. But it sounded like poem, and she couldn’t fathom why the man was reciting it right now. That and the manic grin on his face made Maria’s skin crawl.

But beside her, Natasha’s hands flew up to clutch her head, her gun dropping onto the ground, and Shostakov sneered with pure contempt. Maria turned to look at her to see what was wrong, but the redhead had scrunched her eyes close and was shaking her head violently.

If that didn’t freak Maria out enough, Shostakov’s next words surely did.

“Kill them, _Natalia,”_ he said, “And when you’re done, come find me again.”

And almost in a flash, he produced a grenade-like object from his coat pocket and dropped it a few feet in front of him. The muffled blast was instantaneous as it touched the ground, and a giant cloud of fog immediately appeared in front of them, blocking their vision.

Barton and Jones instantaneously shot at the other men, and their bodies dropped the ground a second later. Maria fired shots into the mist, but she knew that Shostakov was gone long before.

Maria dropped her hand and turned to face her agents. The men looked just as confused by the series of events as Maria was feeling. And Natasha had opened her eyes, but she still looked very disoriented.

“Barton, take Jones with you and go after him,” Maria barked, her words quick and clipped, “Don’t bother to bring him in. I want him dead, if that’s possible.”

Barton motioned towards Natasha, “What about her?”

“I’ll bring her with me. We would only slow you down,” Maria muttered, holstering her gun, “We’ll meet at the evac point, unless something comes up.”

They nodded and ran off into the fog, and Maria watched them disappear until the only sound around her was that of her own breathing.

* * *

She was just about to heave a sigh when she felt the straps of her Kevlar being cut off behind her.

The move was smooth and Maria’s shirt underneath was intact even as the suit came undone, falling in front of her. Her gun was taken and within seconds, Maria heard its disassembled parts clattering onto the floor. 

Before she could understand what was going on, Maria felt a blade poking into her back and she immediately stiffened, her heart rattling against her rib cage. She raised her hands slowly, not risking looking behind.

“Natasha?” Maria whispered, praying naively that it wasn’t her.

A hand roughly grabbed her arm and Maria was violently spun around. And she found herself looking into the eyes of her girlfriend.

Except Maria could barely recognise the woman.

Gone was the endearing sparkle in the redhead’s emeralds. Natasha’s eyes were dark, and her expression was detached, like she didn’t recognise Maria at all.

“I never quite liked guns,” the redhead sneered, her eyes devoid of any emotion or familiarity, “Knives are so much more fun.”

And that’s when Maria realised, with crushing clarity, that she _didn’t_.

“And it’s _Natalia,_ ” the Russian snarled, her voice cold, “ _Natalia Romanova.”_

Any shred of hope Maria had left within her that the woman was _her_ Natasha was gone when she saw the gleam of the blade, its tip barely an inch away from her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That poem isn't my own creation (obviously). It's a poem called "There's only one Sun" and it's written in 1919 by Marina Tsvetaeva. It's originally in Russian, so the English translation may vary.


	26. Gone with the Wind

## The Soldier

“It’s Natalia. Natalia Romanova.”

Maria forced herself to calm down. _This is not how I’ll lose her._ She slowly raised her hands higher, hoping to make the assassin see that she wasn’t a threat.

But Natalia eyed her with feral satisfaction, and Maria realised that she wasn’t looking at her as a threat.

She was looking at her as a _target._

As if to confirm that, the redhead yanked Maria’s earpiece out and dropped it on the floor. Smirking at Maria, Natalia proceeded to stomp on it, crushing the device to smithereens. She did the same with her own earpiece, and Maria’s mind went into overdrive, trying to come up with a way to get out of this situation.

But the knife was still in place, preventing Maria from making any move. And if she wanted to live through this, she was going to have to get that blade away first.

“So, that’s it?” Maria huffed, all bravado, “You’re not even going to give me a chance to fight you?”

The Russian looked utterly amused at that, and for a second, Maria could see a fleeting glimpse of her cheeky girlfriend in her. But then Natali– _Natasha’s_ smirk morphed into a sneer and she let the weapon slip from her hands. She took off her own bulletproof vest and discarded it beside Maria’s.

Natasha stepped away from Maria, her fists ready in her fighting stance, forming the scene Maria was so familiar with. But a single look at Natasha’s eyes, and Maria was reminded that this wasn’t going to be anything like their sparring matches.

“I like you,” Natasha said, cocking her head sideways, “And I’m going to like _killing_ you even more.”

That was all the warning Maria got before the assassin charged towards her.

* * *

Just the first 10 seconds into it, Maria realised how wrong she was to think that she’d be able to survive now that the blade wasn’t in Natasha’s hand.

Barely even hindered by her sprained ankle, Natasha attacked Maria with outright animalistic ruthlessness. Maria didn’t stand any chance against the assassin’s speed or strength, and she struggled to even block the blows. She somehow parried the punches to her head, but Natasha didn’t spare too many parts of her body unharmed.

The few hits Maria managed to land were all light and didn’t seem to faze the Russian in the slightest. But unlike last time, Natasha was only encouraged by the lack of retaliation, and attacked her even more aggressively. And every blow she took threatened to make her collapse.

But Maria held her ground, her body shaking with pain as she stared at the redhead. At her _lover._ Imploring her to recognise her.

_Please, come back to me._

Natasha’s gaze wavered for just a second before she smirked and drove her fist into Maria’s jaw, her battle gloves scraping painfully against Maria’s skin.

But before Maria could even be thrown back, the assassin grabbed her by the collar and held her in place.

“Why won’t you hit back?” Natasha barked.

It was almost a recreation of that night from months ago. _Almost_. The only difference was the sheer void in Natasha’s eyes. There wasn’t a hint of recollection in them, and it hurt Maria more than every blow she had received. But she glared back at the redhead, the resolve to get her back still strong.

“Why won’t _you_ just kill me?” Maria gasped.

Natasha’s grip loosened just a bit as the question threw her off, and Maria gathered the strength to go on.

“Tell me, _Natasha_ ,” she said, “Why am I still alive, when I know for a fact that the Black Widow _never_ holds back?”

The assassin shut her eyes, her brows furrowing together, like she remembered something, and hope surged through Maria.

But when she opened them, they were still cold.

Natasha quickly schooled her features into a scowl and jerked Maria forward violently, “You’re alive because I want to see the fear in your eyes.”

“You’re alive because you’re still fucking _standing,_ ” the assassin snarled, her eyes tracking the drop of blood trailing down Maria’s jaw, “I don’t want to just kill you. I want to _defeat_ you.”

Natasha gave her a menacing sneer before whispering, “ _I want to see you fall.”_

“I’ve already fallen,” Maria breathed, her voice heavy with emotions, “I’ve fallen for _you_. Everything I have, and everything I am is yours to take.”

Natasha’s face contorted with confusion and she shook her head, as if trying to clear her thoughts.

“I’m in love with you, Natasha,” Maria continued, hoping her words would bring Natasha back.

But it only made the assassin furious and she let go of Maria, her fist immediately connecting with Maria’s gut, knocking the wind out of her.

Natasha let out a roar as she grabbed the knife that she had thrown on to the floor beside her and stalked towards Maria, her strides long and fast.

She barely allowed Maria to straighten up before landing a kick to her midsection that sent her crashing into the wall a few feet behind her. The assassin used her free hand to hold Maria’s collar once again and slammed her into the wall.

“Don’t fucking call me _that_ ,” Natasha spat out, “You know what, I’m done with these games.”

She raised her armed hand to make the fatal strike, but Maria somehow managed to stop the knife.

She held the assassin’s wrist with both her hands, the blade hovering over her heart, the savage glint in Natasha’s eyes making Maria shudder with fear.

“You can call yourself whatever you want,” Maria croaked, struggling to counter the redhead’s power, “Natalia. The Black Widow. Doesn’t matter. It won’t change the fact that I love you.”

“Love is for children,” Natasha growled under her breath, pushing the knife down harder.

“And you may kill me now,” Maria went on, as if the Russian hadn’t spoken, “But I won’t die.”

“I’ll continue to live in your memories. In your nightmares,” she murmured, her eyes getting misty, “In your _guilt._ ”

Maria saw Natasha’s gaze flicker and break, like maybe the words were _finally_ getting to her, and she could feel the strength in the assassin’s hand starting to wane. Maria risked reaching out with one hand to touch the redhead’s cheek.

“Because even though you can’t see it right now,” Maria said, her voice cracking, “ _You’re_ in love with _me_ too.”

The shorter woman kept staring at her, the hand holding the knife still in the same position, the force in it neither increasing nor decreasing.

And Maria just had to take the plunge.

She leaned forward, ignoring the pain as the blade pierced her shoulder, and pressed her lips against Natasha’s.

The redhead didn’t respond but her grip over the knife went slack. Maria immediately took the chance to break apart and snag the blade out of Natasha’s hand. The assassin didn’t have the time to react and she didn’t even see it coming when Maria rammed the hilt of the dagger into her temple.

The blow made Natasha stagger several steps away and Maria quickly bent down to grab the gun she had hidden in her boot.

She straightened up and Natasha was gawking at her, looking dazed and utterly lost.

“Maria…?”

But it was too late. Maria had already pressed the trigger, her hands trembling around the gun.

She watched the redhead crumple to the floor and the gun slipped from her grip, hitting the ground with a jarring clatter. Maria started walking towards Natasha, her feet wobbling and her breaths coming out in rasps.

She fell to her knees the second she reached her girlfriend and cradled the redhead’s body in her lap. She brushed her lips across Natasha’s forehead, right beside the wound she’d given her.

A single tear escaped Maria’s eye, falling onto her lover’s cheek as she whispered, _“I’m so sorry.”_


	27. She’s Here

## The Archer

Clint was fucking pissed.

He and Jones had thoroughly scoured the frigid woods, but the Shostakov guy seemed to have disappeared into thin air. _Literally._

And then, they had suddenly lost contact with _both_ Natasha and Hill. And Clint had just known something had gone terribly wrong.

He had quickly instructed Jones to give up the search and head back to the building. His gut told him that the women would be there.

And so, they were trudging through the forest, trying to be as fast as they can to get back. But the goddamned snow was making it so difficult for them to figure out the way, because every path looked the same.

They walked for almost an eternity before Jones finally spotted the faint outline of the gate, the actual building still hidden from their view, and pointed towards it. Clint immediately broke into a sprint, not bothering to check if Jones was following, his heart beating nervously.

And the sight he was met with when he reached there jolted him to a stop.

He saw Hill snatch a knife out of Natasha’s hand, and strike her with the butt of it. Natasha stumbled backwards and before Clint could even move a muscle, Hill had whipped out a gun and fired a single shot.

Clint stood rooted to his spot, trying to steady his pulse, unable to believe what he just saw. He saw Hill shuffling towards Natasha’s fallen form, and even from the distance, Clint could see despondence on the woman’s face.

Jones soon caught up with him and staggered to a halt, just like he had. His bark of surprise jerked Clint out of his stupor, and he jogged towards the women. He stopped a few paces away, steeling himself to see his best friend bleeding out.

But there wasn’t a drop of blood on Natasha’s body.

Except for the gash on her temple, the redhead seemed completely fine. Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, Clint bent forward to examine the spot on where the bullet had perforated the skin, and saw a small dart-like pellet lodged in Natasha’s neck.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

Because Clint now recalled the conversation he’d had with Hill, right before leaving for the mission…

_Clint walked into the weapons room and saw that Hill was already there, stashing their arsenal with the required ammunition._

_“What’s that?” he asked, when he saw her stuff a small, slightly different-looking gun into her boot._

_“It’s… a tranquiliser gun,” Hill answered, her voice calm, if a little uneven._

_“It’s just a precaution, and I’m hoping I don’t have to use it,” she clarified, seeing Clint’s eyebrows rise in surprise, “But this is the Red Room we’re dealing with,” she said, her voice grim, “I’m just worried that things might get too hard for Natasha to face…”_

_Hill didn’t finish the sentence, but Clint could hear the concern in the lieutenant’s voice. And he could_ see _it_ _in the woman’s ramrod straight posture._

_Clint knew about Natasha’s episodes, when her memories or dreams would terrorise her, making her get hysterical with panic, and it would be very difficult to calm her down – or even control her – given her insane reflexes. And even though she hadn’t had one in a really long time, it was better to be prepared._

_“I don’t want her to go through any more pain than she already has,” Hill muttered, her eyes flickering just a bit, “But, please, don’t tell her about this. I don’t want her thinking that I don’t trust her to be able to handle the op.”_

_And Clint could only smile and nod at her, satisfied that Natasha had someone apart from him who was looking out for her._

Clint’s focus came back to the present and he shifted his gaze towards Hill. He noticed the lieutenant’s battered form – and the lack of any new attackers around – and he could guess what must have happened.

But the woman hadn’t even registered their presence yet. Hill’s eyes were glued on Natasha’s face, her jaw clenched tightly as she stared at the wound on the redhead’s temple. Clint reached out and gently placed his hand on Hill’s shoulder, startling her.

The woman’s head snapped up to face him and Clint was almost taken aback by the anguish in her eyes. But Hill blinked once, and it was gone.

“We need to go,” the woman said, her voice almost strangled.

She tried to lift Natasha’s limp form in her arms as she stood up, but Clint stopped her, seeing her wince in pain. He wordlessly took the redhead’s body from Hill and waited as she carefully straightened herself.

Hill’s grey shirt had a small, but growing patch of blood, right along the collar bone, and Clint’s gaze caught on the wound that he could see through the tear. But the woman didn’t seem to care and simply started walking towards the gate, her strides sure, if slightly slower than usual. He and Jones caught up with her soon, matching their pace with hers as they exited the building.

Clint kept glancing towards Hill as they walked side by side, but the woman’s gaze was fixed on the road ahead, and she didn’t even notice the drops of blood falling from her shoulder every now and then, creating a faint trail in the snow.

He wanted to say something, but Hill’s icy demeanour was making it clear that she wasn’t going to entertain him. The Quinjet was docked a fair distance away, and Clint already knew that Hill’s silence throughout the hike was going to be heavier than the dead weight of Natasha in his arms.

* * *

Hill had stalked off into the cockpit the second they had boarded the Quinjet.

She came out a minute later, just after Clint had laid Natasha’s still-unconscious form onto a seat. She stopped in her tracks as her gaze zeroed in on the handcuffs that Jones was putting around Natasha’s wrists, making the young agent freeze in his movements.

“Come in when you’re done,” Hill ordered, her jaw twitching furiously as she glared pointedly at Clint.

She stormed back into the cockpit, and Jones gave him a sympathetic look. He resumed his task, and Clint sighed as he followed the woman.

He found Hill jabbing the buttons harshly when he walked into the cockpit. Clint honestly wasn’t comfortable in letting the woman pilot the aircraft in her obviously disturbed state, but he didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.

Plus, despite everything, he still instinctively trusted the lieutenant. He silently took his seat and joined her as they revved up the engine.

* * *

They were well into the skies when Clint finally addressed Hill, “We had to cuff her.”

Hill’s posture immediately stiffened, but she didn’t respond.

“He triggered her, didn’t he?” Clint tried again, “With that Russian gibberish?”

The woman gripped the console tightly, but still didn’t say a word. Utterly frustrated with her, Clint fiddled with the controls, putting the Quinjet on autopilot, and then reached out to grab the woman’s arm.

“She fucking _attacked_ you, Hill!” he all but yelled.

“That wasn’t her!” Hill finally snapped back, her eyes ablaze, and Clint fell quiet.

“It wasn’t _her,_ ” she repeated after a bit, her voice dropping to a whisper, “And I still went ahead and…”

Hill let the sentence trail off, shaking her head. Clint didn’t quite make out what she was saying, but he couldn’t bear her distress.

“You did what you had to do,” Clint said, softly this time.

Hill looked away, and he could almost hear her gnashing her teeth. The woman curled and uncurled her fists, like she was trying to maintain her control over herself.

“You don’t understand, Barton,” she replied, “She had come back.”

And Clint finally got it.

“Right before I knocked her out, she had come back,” Hill clarified, “But I shot her nevertheless.”

She dropped her head, unable to even face him, and Clint saw a violent shudder course through her body.

“ _She called out my name_ , Barton,” Hill whispered, her voice barely audible, “But I still shot her.”

The torment in the woman’s voice almost took Clint’s breath away, and he loosened his grip on her arm, rubbing it soothingly instead.

But Hill suddenly grabbed his hand, her head whipping up, “I keep thinking, what if it had been a real bullet?” she said, her eyes darting around like that of a caged animal.

“I couldn’t – I _didn’t_ even stop to check if it was even the right gun,” Hill stuttered, her gaze stopping on his face, but seeing right through him, “I just shot her.”

And Clint had had enough. The woman had repeated the sentence _thrice_ by now _,_ and he was just done with it. He held both her arms gently, but firmly, making her look at him.

“You didn’t _shoot_ her, Hill,” he said emphatically, “You just knocked her out. You said that yourself.”

Hill didn’t reply, but her eyes started to refocus, like the words were actually getting through her, and Clint considered it a cue for him to continue.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand what it’s like to watch your girlfriend suddenly turn into a cold-blooded assassin who doesn’t even recognise you,” he said, “But I can say this: that was incredibly brave what you did out there.”

Hill gave him a sad, self-deprecating smile, but Clint wasn’t done yet, “You were fearless when she needed you to be,” he said, “You didn’t give up on her, or on yourself.”

“ _You brought her back,_ Hill,” Clint added confidently.

Even though he didn’t know what had exactly happened between them, he just _knew_ he was right when he said all of it.

“I wasn’t brave or fearless, Barton,” Hill scoffed weakly, her shoulders sagging tiredly, “I was just… _desperate._ ”

 _And you still are,_ Clint wanted to point out. But he let it slide, instead smiling reassuringly at the woman.

“But it’s over,” he said softly, “She’s here – _Natasha_ is here – and she’s fine.”

Hill’s eyes shut close and relief briefly crossed her features, like she needed to hear those words from someone. She opened them and gave him a small, but genuine smile.

Just then, Jones poked his head through the door, “Uh, guys? I think Agent Romanoff is gaining consciousness.”

Clint expected Hill to spring out of her seat, but the woman surprised him and just stood up calmly. She looked visibly relaxed and Clint felt rather proud of himself to have comforted the woman, to whatever extent.

Hill scanned the room for something, and before Clint could ask her what she was looking for, her eyes fell on the black aviator jacket that was hanging by a hook on the wall. She reached it in 3 long steps and plucked it off, dusting it briefly.

Hill proceeded to wear it, her face an impenetrable mask even as she struggled to pull it over her injured shoulder, and then zipped it high enough to cover the blood stain on her shirt underneath. She gave Clint a curt yet grateful nod and then walked out of the cockpit wordlessly.

 _Damn,_ Clint thought as he got up to follow her, _Tasha was so right. She really is one of a kind._

* * *

Clint came out of the cockpit and saw Hill standing a few steps away from where Natasha was seated, her arms crossed against her torso. Her posture wasn’t as painfully stiff as it had been all this while. But her eyes had that troubled look all over again.

In front of them, Natasha slowly stirred, a groan escaping her lips as she knitted her forehead, her eyes squinting at the sudden burst of light. She tried to raise her hands but noticed that they were fastened against the armrests.

Hill’s hands reflexively inched out to touch the redhead, but she balled them into fists and let them fall beside her. She waited for Natasha to fully wake up before speaking, “State your full name.”

It was meant as an order, but it sounded more like a prayer to Clint.

The redhead furrowed her eyebrows, still clearly disoriented, her neck slowly turned around as she surveyed her surroundings.

“Natasha,” she murmured, her voice hoarse, “Natasha Romanoff.”

Exhaling audibly, Hill dropped the act and instantly rushed forward to kneel beside Natasha, her hands reaching out to uncuff her. But the Russian’s head snapped towards the movement, “What happened?”

The taller woman’s hands froze, and she looked intently at Natasha’s wrist near her, eyeing the redness of the skin, and then simply proceeded with her task, not answering the redhead’s question.

But Natasha pushed Hill’s hands aside, “ _What happened,_ Hill?” she asked firmly, “We were back at the building when Alex– _The Red Guardian_ came in,” she said, her voice wavering just a bit, “And then he said something, and I think I saw Barton and Jones leave… and then I can’t remember anything.”

Hill almost sighed in relief at that and tried to take the smaller woman’s hand again. But Natasha in turn gripped Hill’s wrist tightly, making her look up and face her, “You shot at me.”

Clint knew it wasn’t meant as an accusation. He knew it from the way Natasha had mumbled it. But he still wanted to yell at the Russian. _Of course, she remembers that part._

Hill visibly flinched at the words, and her eyes darted between the dried blood on Natasha’s temple and the welt on her neck. But she couldn’t get herself to speak.

“Tell me, _please,_ ” Natasha whispered, her eyes filled with fear, “I need to know.”

Clint’s heart broke at the redhead’s shattered voice. It was almost as if she knew what had happened, but she still wanted to hear it out loud, in some self-torturous way.

Hill dropped her gaze, her mouth opening and closing several times, like she was unsure of where to even begin. She sighed eventually, her shoulders sagging.

“You were… gone,” Hill choked out.

Seeing just how difficult it was for the taller woman, Clint took over, squatting beside Hill, “Tasha, Shostakov tried to manipulate you,” he said, cringing internally at just how insufficient the word was, “He wanted you to go with him.”

The realisation quickly dawned upon Natasha and she screwed her eyes shut, shaking her head furiously and then wincing at the movement.

Hill’s hand was immediately on the redhead’s face, her thumb gently caressing Natasha’s temple, “It’s okay, he didn’t get you.”

She kept repeating the words, waiting for Natasha to look at her, and Clint had to wonder exactly _who_ she was trying to reassure.

And his heart went out to both the women, each one burning in her own hell.

Natasha eventually opened her eyes, her green orbs darting towards Clint before resting on Hill again, scanning the brunette’s face.

“Did I… did I hurt anyone?” the redhead asked, her voice cracking, her breaths long and heavy, like she was dreading the answer.

“No, everyone’s safe,” Hill delivered the white lie smoothly.

And despite the circumstances, Clint _smiled._ At the lieutenant’s tact. Because she wasn’t technically wrong.

Hill wasn’t fooling anyone, though. Her jaw had a cut from her fight with Natasha that was visible even after she’d cleaned the blood off her face. The redhead, however, only nodded listlessly at the taller woman.

But Clint knew Natasha didn’t believe her.

It was confirmed when she looked dead into Hill’s eyes, her own gaze fractured, and spoke clearly, “The handcuffs stay.”


	28. Back to Pavilion

## The Archer

Clint was burning under Fury’s intense gaze.

The Director was studying them like they were a bunch of students in detention. But to be fair, they did _look_ like kids who had screwed up.

Hill was standing at ease – the military position – with her jaw squared and her eyes fixed at a point on Fury’s shoulder. Natasha stood more casually, periodically shifting her weight from one leg to the other, trying her best to not squirm.

Jones – the hapless bystander – was attempting to appear like he knew what was going on, but he resembled the innocent kid who just got dragged into the mess.

And Clint only had to imagine what he was coming off as, himself.

Sighing inwardly, Clint lowered his head. He honestly couldn’t wait be done with this and take a much-required nap. Because he was just done with handling the tension.

The ride back to the Helicarrier had been nothing short of an ordeal.

Natasha had firmly maintained her stance about not taking off the handcuffs, and Hill had glared at her so hard, Clint had thought she would pop a vein.

He guessed now that the women must have had a full wordless argument between them the whole time, because Hill had suddenly shot up and angrily stalked off. She had returned a few seconds later, having gathered some medical supplies, and then cleaned Natasha's wound.

Natasha had tried to shake her face out of Hill’s hands, like a petulant child, but Hill had held her in place by her cheeks and finished the task, bandaging up the shorter woman’s forehead.

And then, the lieutenant had slapped a strip of aspirin into Clint’s hand, muttering, “Make sure she takes it,” and then stormed into the cockpit, leaving a visibly stunned Jones in her wake, his mouth almost gaping open at the whole scene.

Inevitably, Natasha had shot daggers towards Clint, making it clear that she _would_ maim him if he’d even try to force her to take the pill.

Clint remembered the intense staring match he’d had with Jones. The loser – it had to be Clint, _of course_ – had to take the cockpit while the other stayed with the cuffed redhead.

Clint had found Hill tending to her own shoulder when he’d gone in, wiping the blood off it as much as she could externally, and he had offered to help. But the woman had levelled him with a withering glare (no doubt learning it from her girlfriend), and he’d quietly slunk into his seat.

And luckily for him, Hill had then snagged her tablet and fiddled with it, not saying a single word – not even looking at him – the whole time after that.

Cut to now.

They had just reached the Helicarrier, and Fury had met them in the hangar itself, obviously eager to hear the report. And Clint could see his disappointment – punctuated by the slight scowl – as Hill told him that they hadn’t managed to get Shostakov.

“He was the damned _Red Guardian,_ ” the Director growled, his voice low but still commanding, “How could you lose him?”

“Sir, he triggered Romanoff before we could get him,” Hill replied, her tone even.

But from where Clint was standing, he could see the woman’s fist clenched tightly behind her.

Fury looked genuinely surprised, his glare morphing into a frown, “ _What?”_

“He… he used a _poem,”_ Hill said the word like it was a curse, “Apparently there are still some phrases and words that can… _activate_ Romanoff’s past alter ego.”

The brunette struggled so much with the sentence, Clint thought she would just punch something. Beside him, Natasha had stopped fidgeting. Her eyes were glued to the floor and her fists were balled, her knuckles white with the force.

Hill blinked rapidly and continued, “We were wrong, Sir,” she said, the slight tremors in her voice making her rage clear, “He never wanted to take out the Widow. He wanted to take her _back._ ”

“So, you’re telling me, that there are _still_ some of Romanoff’s triggers in place?” Fury asked, no longer caring about Shostakov or the fact that he had managed to get away.

The Director’s gaze softened just a bit as he eyed the redhead, and it was the closest Clint had seen him to being concerned.

Hill nodded stiffly, “Yes, Sir, for all we know, there’s a whole set of them that we aren’t aware of,” she almost snarled, “ _Yet_.”

All four of them snapped their heads in the taller woman’s direction.

Hill took a long breath before beginning, “Sir, before the op went FUBAR, Romanoff managed to extract huge amounts of data from Shostakov’s workstation,” she said, producing a flash drive from her pocket.

“It has information about the Red Room’s latent operations, and a lot more that we couldn’t have known until now,” Hill went on, “And when I went through it, I found that it also happens to contain detailed documentation of their Black Widow programme.”

 _Ah_ , _that’s what she was doing with the tablet._

“And there’s almost an entire section dedicated to the intricate triggers that were to be used as fail-safes,” Hill spat out, no longer bothering to hide her rage, “The Red Room custom-ingrained them into the girls they brought in.”

“The exact words and phrases are obscurely mentioned, because they obviously didn’t want them to be easily deciphered,” Hill added, “But I’m hoping we can work with Romanoff and the doctors to decode them, and then remove the triggers.”

Clint turned to observe Natasha. She was trying to appear unperturbed, but to him, the redhead looked like she wanted to run away and never come back. And he could understand her fear. He didn’t know the exact details, but he knew how painful her reprogramming had been when she’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

“And fortunately,” Hill spoke after a bit, “The triggers seem to be psychological – not neurological – and I would hope that the procedure to undo them should be… _simpler_ than last time.”

“Well, then get started with that as soon as you can,” Fury replied instantly, “I don’t want my agents to be attached to any kind of marionette strings.”

The Director abruptly turned to face Natasha, his visible eye boring into her small form, “They won’t have you for long, Romanoff. You’re one of us,” he said, as if he could sense the redhead’s distress, “And I _hate_ sharing.”

Clint could see Natasha’s eyes glaze over, and she finally unclenched her fists, smiling gratefully at Fury. And Clint felt like hugging her tight.

The Director turned back to face Hill, “I want you in my office with a draft of your findings from the data by tomorrow –” he paused to take in her beat-up appearance, “– evening.”

Hill obediently nodded at the command, her tired eyes gleaming with resolve for just a second. And Clint had to wonder just where she was summoning the strength from.

“Dismissed,” Fury said after a bit, “Get some rest, all of you. Official debriefing will be later this week.”

The Director nodded curtly at all of them and then left, leaving them to dissemble themselves. Jones shot Clint a concerned look before all but scampering away, leaving Clint with the two obviously troubled women.

And the deafening silence took over once again.

* * *

Clint barged into Natasha’s quarters – not even bothering to knock – and found her seated on the edge of her bed.

Her head was bowed down, and her gaze seemed faraway. She didn’t look up even when Clint walked close enough for his boots to come into her view.

“What the hell are you doing, Tasha?” Clint asked rather rudely.

Because he was officially _sick_ of this.

It had been a couple of hours since Fury had dismissed them, and Natasha had murmured, “I have to go,” and then hobbled away.

Clint had thought Hill would follow her, but the taller woman had just stood rooted to her spot. She had wordlessly watched the redhead walk away, defeat written all over her features. And then she had just shaken her head and then gone her own way.

Clint had then gotten a call from Laura and he had to go run an urgent errand for her. And so, he couldn’t speak to either of the women, who seemed hell-bent on pushing each other away, when they obviously needed to just speak to each other.

He’d returned to the Helicarrier only a few minutes ago, but he’d just known that his goddamned stubborn friend would be still moping and avoiding her girlfriend.

Clint observed Natasha now, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence, but the redhead maintained her position, her eyes glued to the floor.

Clint sighed heavily. He wished Laura were here. He so wasn’t cut out for these heart-to-hearts that he seemed to be frequently having with the two women. But Laura was perfect in that department. She always knew the right thing to say.

But he still couldn’t let the women wallow, especially when both deserved all the happiness. Clint sat down beside Natasha, his hand covering the redhead’s, which was gripping the rim of the bed.

“You need to go to her,” he whispered.

The words finally made Natasha face him, and she looked straight at Clint, her eyes brimming with tears of torment and desolation. And he wordlessly took the redhead into a bone-crushing hug. Her sobs were muffled and soft, but heart-breaking, nevertheless.

“I could’ve _killed_ her,” she choked out.

Clint smiled sadly to himself at just how similar both the women’s fears were. He loosened his arms around Natasha, letting her breath.

“I know you’re dealing with your own stuff right now,” he said softly, “But you need to go to Hill.”

Natasha instantly pulled back, glaring at him, and Clint could almost feel the fire in her eyes, burning her from the inside.

“I think she’s better off _without_ a girlfriend who can easily be transformed into a heartless killer,” Natasha muttered, her voice cracking at the end.

“That’s fucking bullshit, Tasha, and you know it,” Clint growled, and then forced himself to calm down.

He took a deep breath and then continued, “Look, I can’t understand what you’re going through, but I know that Hill is the solution to your pain. _And –_ ” he added quickly when he saw Natasha open her mouth to cut him off, “ – as much as you wouldn’t want to believe it, _you_ are the solution to _hers._ ”

The redhead pursed her lips, her jaw twitching and her eyes filling with new tears, knowing that Clint was right. He hugged her once again, gently this time.

“She’s been so _magnificently stoic_ about all of this. I honestly don’t know how she’s doing it,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe, “But she’s not okay, Tasha.”

“She’s not even _remotely_ okay,” Clint went on as the redhead clung onto him tighter, “This distance that you’ve put between you and her, it’s killing her.”

Natasha flinched in his arms, and Clint cursed himself for his choice of words. He rubbed a soothing hand down her back before breaking apart, looking deep into her eyes.

“So even if you don’t think you deserve the comfort that Hill would so readily give you, _you need to go to her,_ ” he reiterated, his words firm despite the quiet tone, “For _her_ sake.”

And he could see just how hard Natasha was trying to not break down. Clint held her gaze determinedly until the redhead gave him a small nod.

_God, help these two._


	29. In Your Arms

## The Widow

Natasha slowly opened the door of the lieutenant’s office, limping inside as quietly as she could.

She had listened to Clint, and she was here, but she honestly had no idea how she was going to face her girlfriend. Her girlfriend who she had nearly killed just a few hours ago. Natasha would be far more comfortable if Maria yelled at her and threw her out of her office. And her life.

The room was deathly silent as Natasha took a few wobbly steps in. Her head had been throbbing ever since she’d regained consciousness, and right now, she could almost hear it pounding against her skull.

The brunette’s desk and chair were empty, and Natasha thought maybe Maria wasn’t here. She was about to turn around and leave, when her eye caught the figure seated on the couch in the office.

Maria’s head was thrown back against the couch, an elbow covering her eyes. She appeared to be asleep but from the tight set of her jaw that was still visible, Natasha knew she was awake.

“Now’s not a good time for another pep talk, Barton,” Maria sighed tiredly, not even bothering to remove the hand off her face to see the intruder.

And before she could realise it, Natasha had walked over to the brunette, ignoring the shooting pain in her ankle as she squatted down beside the woman’s stretched out legs. Natasha’s hand unconsciously reached forward, and she placed her palm on Maria’s thigh.

The contact startled the brunette and she instantly shot out of her seat, making Natasha stand up too. Maria’s features relaxed once she saw Natasha, her bloodshot eyes softening as she scanned Natasha’s face.

The brunette didn’t make any move and just looked at her yearningly, like she couldn’t believe her eyes. They stared at each other for a few excruciating seconds, before Maria finally blinked.

“ _Natasha.”_

And suddenly the distance was unbearable.

Natasha lunged forward and crashed her lips onto Maria’s, the force making them both fall into the couch behind the brunette. Maria let out a soft grunt as they landed, Natasha on top of her, but manoeuvred herself to take Natasha into her lap.

They didn’t let the kiss break even for a second.

It was sloppy and intense and violent as Natasha breathlessly devoured the brunette, like she was the very oxygen sustaining her. And Maria matched her fervour, one hand shaking as it tangled into Natasha’s hair, pulling her closer, while the fingers of the other dug into Natasha’s waist.

Just like Natasha, Maria hadn’t changed out of her clothes since coming back, and they were both grimy and exhausted. But nothing mattered. They needed the proximity now, more than ever.

They broke apart eventually, panting for breath, and drank each other in. Maria extracted her hand from Natasha’s tresses to cup her cheek.

“You came to me,” the brunette murmured, her voice soft.

And it was all Natasha could do to not bawl uncontrollably.

Because she knew Maria meant. _You came_ back _to me._ When she’d been gone. When she’d been _Natalia._

Natasha took the taller woman’s hand in hers, “You brought me back.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” she mumbled, her voice bitter as she eyed the wound on the brunette’s jaw, “I’m sorry for hurting you and not even knowing it.”

It was her worst fear come true.

Natasha had understood early on that she just had a knack for inflicting pain, no matter how much she tried to fight it. But she was terrified of doing it to someone and not realising it. Because then, there wouldn’t be anything left for her to hold on to. No remorse, no pain. She would be truly and fully empty.

But Maria merely shook her head, “You weren’t in control of yourself, Nat. It wasn’t your fault.”

The words incensed her to no end, and Natasha grabbed the lapels of the brunette’s jacket, yanking her forward, “Stop letting me off the hook every damn time, Maria!”

She slammed the woman back into the couch, making her flinch, “I _know_ I hurt you, so you aren’t protecting me or my feelings!”

Natasha had all but yelled out that part, her voice quivering by the end of it. But Maria squeezed her eyes close at the words, pain rippling across her features, and Natasha immediately regretted it.

“You’re right,” the brunette whispered, her voice shattered, “I couldn’t protect you.”

Maria opened her eyes, her fractured gaze darting everywhere except for Natasha’s face, and Natasha’s heart clenched at the desperation in her blue orbs.

“He triggered you, right under my nose,” Maria said, shaking her head.

“He used a _poem –_ a _fucking poem –_ can you believe that?” the brunette rasped, her tone enraged and frantic, “And just like that, you were gone.”

“He almost got you, Natasha,” she choked out, “And I just stood there and watched it all happen. I couldn’t do anything.”

“But he didn’t get me,” Natasha whispered, unable to bear her girlfriend’s misery, “You didn’t let him take me.”

Maria finally looked up at her, and Natasha bent down to kiss her forehead, reassuring her that she was right there. The brunette sagged forward, burrowing her face into the crook of Natasha’s neck.

“I’m so tired, Nat,” Maria sighed, “I’m so tired of the world trying to take you away from me.”

The brunette’s voice was cracking heartbreakingly, and Natasha instantly wrapped her arms around her.

“I don’t know how much more you have to go through before you become mine,” Maria mumbled into Natasha’s hair, her voice muffled.

“I _am_ yours, Maria,” Natasha said before she even knew it.

She gently held Maria’s chin and tilted her face so that she could see her, “I’m at a point in my life where I don’t know who I am, _myself,_ ” she said, her voice surprisingly clear, “But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I am yours.”

“Then why do you keep slipping away me,” Maria breathed, “Sometimes I feel like I’m just endlessly chasing a shadow…”

A whimper escaped Natasha’s lips at the abject torment in the brunette’s voice. She rushed forward and pressed her lips against Maria’s, unable to find any words that would comfort the woman.

“I’m here, Maria,” Natasha eventually mumbled, the need to say _something_ overpowering her, “And even if you lose me, it wouldn’t ever be because of you.”

She looked at her girlfriend’s pained expression, her own heart bleeding at their utterly destitute circumstances.

_And I promise to do everything in my power to come back to you. Every time._

Maria raised her hand and held Natasha’s face, her thumb rubbing tender circles on her cheek, almost as if she’d read Natasha’s thoughts.

“But I want your struggle to end,” she murmured, “Just how long are you going to have to fight to finally be free?”

Natasha bumped her forehead lightly against the brunette’s, beyond touched by her concern, “You have to believe me when I say that I will do whatever it takes. No matter how long it takes.”

_Because you’re worth the battle._

Maria looked at her, smiling sadly, “And I’ll be there with you,” she promised, her eyes glassy but unwavering, “Every step of the way.”

## The Soldier

Maria woke up when she felt a hand tenderly sifting through her bangs.

She lifted her face off the shoulder she was slumped against and looked up. Maria blinked rapidly when she saw Natasha’s face, making sure it was really her.

They were still on the couch in her office, and Natasha was still on her lap, and Maria guessed she must have dozed off for a bit. It was honestly an awful position, and her aching body was protesting at the discomfort, but she wouldn’t trade the moment for anything else in the world.

Maria saw Natasha’s face, a mesmerised glint in her eyes as she absently played with the strands of her hair. Her expression was so soft, Maria almost thought that the past few hours were just a nightmare.

“How long was I out?” she mumbled, sitting upright.

“No idea,” Natasha shrugged, still not looking at her, “Maybe 10-15 minutes?” she answered, making Maria hum in response.

“What are you thinking?” Maria asked after a bit, noticing the rather thoughtful look on her girlfriend’s face.

Natasha sighed and finally faced her, “I’m wondering how you could possibly fall asleep in my arms, so peacefully, knowing that I almost killed you just a few hours back.”

Maria instantly pulled the redhead’s hands down and pressed a kiss on her knuckles, “That’s because I know you aren’t a mindless killer.”

“And I hate myself for making you think that I had to… _put you down,_ ” Maria said, studying Natasha’s hands, not daring to meet her eyes, “Like you’re some kind of an unhinged animal.”

“I hate myself for making you believe that you had to be handcuffed,” she went on, her gaze fixed on bruises lining the redhead’s wrists, “That you couldn’t be trusted enough to be freed.”

Maria dropped her head in remorse, “I hate myself –”

“Stop, _please,”_ Natasha cut her off, her voice hoarse, making Maria look up.

“You have no reason to beat yourself up, you get that?” the redhead said, her expression suddenly stricken, “Because if you hadn’t done that, and I ended up –” she choked on the words, “I-I just couldn’t live with that.”

Natasha kept shaking her head, like she was trying to fight her thoughts and Maria couldn’t bear her anguish any longer. She craned her neck to brush her lips across her girlfriend’s, hoping the kiss would calm her.

“You couldn’t have killed me, Natasha,” Maria hummed against her lips.

The redhead immediately pulled back, her expression confused, “What do you mean?”

Maria took a deep breath before speaking, “When I think back now, I realise that maybe you weren’t fully gone,” she said, carefully watching Natasha’s face for any signs of distress, “Because you didn’t instantly kill me, even though you could have done that very easily.”

“There were still glimpses of you – _this_ you – in the way to moved and fought,” Maria added, her voice shaking just a bit.

Natasha gave her a puzzled look, “You mean I was holding back?”

“No, _God,_ no,” Maria replied almost too quickly, the feel of the redhead’s brutal blows still ghosting over her body, “I meant that it felt like you were stalling. Toying with me. Like you didn’t really _want_ to kill me.”

“But you didn’t hold back at all,” Maria sputtered, laughing weakly, trying to wrestle the memories out of her mind, “You-you very nearly made that final –”

She bit her tongue to stop herself and shut her eyes, realising what she ended up revealing. Maria opened them after a bit and found Natasha looking at her with a terrified expression.

“What did I do?” the redhead whispered, her voice hitching heart-wrenchingly.

Maria cursed herself for her slip-up, “Nothing, Nat. You didn’t do anything,” she said, gripping Natasha’s hands, hoping to soothe the smaller woman, “You came around before you could.”

“I’ve seen you wince every now and then, Maria,” Natasha countered, her eyes flashing with desperation, “What are you hiding from me?”

The question somehow got Maria. She loved Natasha and she didn’t want to lie to her, even though she knew it would hurt her to know. She’d just have to trust herself to be able to handle her girlfriend’s reaction, whatever it might be.

Maria sighed, letting go of Natasha’s hands as she reached for the zipper of her jacket. She pulled it down fully and pushed aside the lapel to expose the blood stain on her shirt. She hadn’t bothered to get the cut on her shoulder bandaged, and she knew it was visible through the tear in the fabric.

Natasha gasped audibly, her face contorting in horror. She instantly scrambled out of Maria’s lap, standing up and stumbling away. But Maria was prepared for it and got off her seat to grab her arms, holding her in place. The redhead stopped struggling eventually and stared at the wound, her eyes filling with tears.

“I _did_ almost kill you,” Natasha whispered, her hollow voice cutting across Maria’s skin like shards of glass.

“I could _still_ kill you,” she croaked, her head whipping up to look at Maria.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Natasha, _please,_ ” Maria begged, not able to see the redhead torture herself, “This is not on you. _He_ was pulling the strings. You couldn’t have stopped yourself.”

Maria held the redhead’s gaze, “And yet, somehow, you did,” she said, her tone firm but soft, “You came back to me, Natasha. Despite being under his influence.”

She took Natasha’s quaking hands into her own and squeezed them lightly, “And we’re going to make sure that _no one_ can ever control you like that.”

Maria slowly tugged the redhead forward, expecting her to resist it, but Natasha readily walked into her embrace. She laid her head on Maria’s good shoulder, her face turned towards the injury that was at her eye-level.

Natasha’s palm fluttered over the marred skin almost reverently, like she was scared to touch it, “I’m so sorry.”

Her voice was so heart-breakingly small, Maria couldn’t help but tighten her arms around Natasha. She took the redhead’s hand and gently placed it over the wound, and the shorter woman flinched, like it was hurting _her._

“It’s okay, Nat,” Maria whispered, “ _I’m_ okay. _We’re_ okay.”

Natasha didn’t say anything for a long time, and Maria simply hugged her close. The redhead eventually snuggled deeper into her chest.

“You know what happened to that girl I told you about?” Natasha murmured after a bit, “The one who told me about love?”

Maria didn’t respond and only squeezed Natasha’s hand which was still in hers. Natasha took a shaky breath before speaking, “I killed her.”

Maria involuntarily stiffened but didn’t loosen her embrace. She could feel the redhead trembling in her arms, and she dropped a soft kiss on her forehead, “Nat, you don’t have to tell me –”

“But I want to,” Natasha cut her off, her voice hoarse from the tears she was holding back, “You need to know.”

“It was part of the training they used to make us go through,” the redhead began after a pause, “They’d blind-fold us and make us fight each other,” she said, her voice strained and broken, “And it would be a duel to death.”

_Fuck, she didn’t even know who she was killing._

Maria felt her own throat getting clogged up at what the smaller woman had to go through.

Natasha suddenly fisted Maria’s shirt in her hand, “I didn’t even find out she was dead until the _next day_ ,” she choked out, “When she didn’t turn up at our usual spot.”

Natasha shivered in her arms, “Don’t forgive me so easily, Maria,” she mumbled, her voice agonisingly thin, “Sometimes, forgiveness is the worst punishment.”

Maria couldn’t find her voice – and there weren’t any words of comfort she could even offer – and she simply pulled Natasha closer to herself. The redhead sagged against her, letting out a strangled sound before hiding her face in the crook of Maria’s neck.

The sobs instantly took over Natasha’s small body, and Maria could only hold her, the redhead’s soft cries slicing through her own heart. She couldn’t possibly understand the true depth of Natasha’s inner torment and she felt woefully useless, unable to help her in any way.

* * *

An entire lifetime seemed to have gone by before Natasha’s sobs reduced to occasional sniffles.

Maria could feel the smaller woman practically leaning her entire weight onto her, her body almost boneless with fatigue. And Maria could understand that; the whole day had taken a physical and emotional toll on her as well.

And she wasn’t even the one whose thoughts and actions had been taken over by a psychopathic freak.

Maria shuddered involuntarily, her arms tightening around the tiny spy.

She guided Natasha back to the couch, noticing that she was barely able to stand upright. Making the redhead sit, Maria squatted in front of her so that she could see her face. The woman’s eyes were bleary, and she looked utterly tired.

“Wow, your shirt is so ruined,” Natasha croaked, her voice raw and dry.

Maria chuckled lightly, “It’s fine,” she said dismissively, “Do you want some water?”

Natasha shook her head rather furiously, “No, please…”

The redhead let it trail off, but Maria could read the plea in her gaze: _please, don’t leave me._

And Maria’s heart broke at the despondence in Natasha’s eyes. She simply straightened up and sat beside the smaller woman, taking her into a side hug with her good hand. Natasha rested her head against her shoulder, and Maria placed a kiss into her hair.

“I can’t think of a single reason why you’re still here, listening to me,” Natasha said after a bit, her gaze fixed on their hands lying beside each other, “Especially after everything you’ve had to go through because of me.”

Maria instantly took the redhead’s hand, entwining her fingers with her own, “I’m not any more hurt than you are, Natasha,” she said softly, “You think that you’re only capable of causing pain, and I wish I could show you how wrong you are.”

The smaller woman didn’t look up, but she also didn’t disentangle her hand. And Maria found the courage to speak again.

“I know the kind of guilt you walk around carrying is hard to ignore,” she said, careful of her words, “But it doesn’t negate the _good_ you’ve done.”

Natasha stiffened and finally looked up, gazing into Maria’s waiting eyes, looking a good measure of mortified and confused.

“Do you know how many missions you’ve singlehandedly turned around?” Maria went on, “When everything that could possibly go wrong had gone wrong?”

“Every op that went FUBAR, you strategized on the fly and completed it, successfully,” she said, pride slipping into her voice, “Even if it nearly costed you your life.”

“And _that’s_ what used to bother me,” Maria revealed, “Not your being reckless. It was the fact that you almost didn’t care if you survived.”

Natasha squeezed her hand, and Maria smiled at her warmly, “And for all my claims of always having a fall-back strategy, _you_ were always my ultimate backup plan.”

“I knew that you’d somehow find a way, even if nothing else worked,” Maria said simply when she saw Natasha staring at her with disbelief in her eyes, “Because failure isn’t an option for you.”

“You always know exactly what needs to be done, and you go ahead and do it,” Maria said, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips, “ _Unapologetically._ ”

“You’re so haunted by the red on your ledger that you can’t see just how much _more_ has been added to it,” Maria whispered, “It’s also filled with the countless lives you’ve saved, cities you’ve preserved, disasters you’ve averted during all those ops.” 

Maria could see the redhead valiantly fighting another wave of sobs, and she cupped her cheek, rubbing gentle circles across the pale skin.

“You’re my ace of trumps, Natasha,” Maria murmured, her thumb wiping away the stray tear that escaped the redhead’s eye, “I couldn’t _possibly_ leave you.”

Maria felt lighter after saying all that, because she had been holding it within her for far too long. She realised now, that perhaps she should have let her girlfriend know just how amazing she was at a better time. Under less poignant circumstances. She wondered if Natasha would even be able to read the whole extent of her emotions.

But the redhead was gawking at her, reprieve and gratitude spilling carelessly from her green orbs, and Maria knew that Natasha had read it. Fully and clearly. The shorter woman craned her neck to take her lips, and Maria met her halfway, kissing her with all the love in her.

When they pulled apart, Natasha looked at her with an angelic smile on her face, like she _finally_ believed in Maria’s words. In her _own_ worth. The redhead opened her mouth to say something, but then thought against it and just captured Maria’s lips once again.

“‘Ace of trumps,’ huh?” Natasha eventually hummed, “And here I thought I was the queen of hearts.”

And despite everything, Maria found herself laughing outright at that.

It was a full-blown belly laugh that had her sides hurting. Because this, right now? This was pure _Natasha._ Unfettered and unbeaten. Even after going through so much, her spirit was still unconquered. And Maria simply couldn’t contain her relief.

“ _Sure,_ you are,” Maria teased, because she just had to.

Natasha grinned at her lazily, her eyelids almost drooping as she leaned onto Maria’s shoulder again, sighing heavily.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, and that I’m too tired right now,” the redhead mumbled, “Otherwise, I would’ve totally punched you for making fun of me.”

Maria only smiled at the non-threat threat, resting her cheek against the smaller woman’s hair. She watched as Natasha took her hand and enmeshed their fingers once again, observing her girlfriend play with their intertwined hands. She watched until they finally went slack, and the sound of the redhead’s soft snores echoed in the otherwise quiet room.

“You _are_ the queen of my heart,” Maria whispered into the silence.

And she let her own exhaustion take over, falling asleep finally content that when she’d wake up, Natasha would be right there, in her arms. Where she belonged.


	30. The Morning After

## The Widow

Natasha woke up and found her face buried in something warm and hard. She rose a little on her elbow and realised that she’d fallen asleep – and _drooled –_ on Maria’s thigh.

It would be morning soon, according to the clock in Maria’s office, and Natasha was surprised to have gone the night without any dreams, despite the horrid day she’d had yesterday. Then again, it wasn’t all that astonishing, considering that Maria had been right here.

Natasha turned up to look at the woman, and she found Maria’s head slumped sideways on her own shoulder. It had to be a painful position, but the brunette was sound asleep, her features serene, if still tired.

And Natasha took the moment to admire her girlfriend.

For the longest time in her life, Natasha had thought that she wanted exoneration, more than anything else. And she had learnt, early on, that she simply wasn’t going to get it. Not with all the blood on her hands.

But Natasha realised now, that maybe she didn’t need that anymore. Because she had Maria. _Maria_ was her salvation. She was someone who had quite literally seen all parts of Natasha, and yet she stood by her side, regardless. Infallible and immovable.

_Like an actual hill._

Natasha just had to smile to herself.

She wished she could tell the brunette just how strong and indispensable her presence had become in her life. Wished she could tell the lieutenant that she fought for _her –_ and for Fury – on all those ops she’d talked about _._ Because they’d believed in her at a time when she couldn’t believe in herself _._ They’d given her that second chance, and she didn’t want to disappoint them.

Natasha extracted herself from her thoughts and sat up slowly, ensuring that her movements didn’t disturb the taller woman. Once she was up, she tried to take Maria’s head onto her own shoulder, but the action jostled the brunette awake.

Maria straightened herself, rubbing her neck as she blinked blearily, “Natasha…?”

“I’m here,” Natasha replied instantly, “Go back to sleep, Maria. I’m right here.”

“No, no,” the brunette said, her voice hoarse from disuse, “I’m up.”

“It’s still early, and you need to rest,” Natasha tried to reason, “You must’ve barely gotten any sleep.”

But the brunette was already scrubbing her face, clearing away any leftover lethargy, “No, _we_ need to get to work,” she murmured, “I’ll rest when we get rid of your triggers.”

Natasha waited for the bitterness and fear to follow the reminder. But it didn’t, and she realised that she wasn’t so afraid anymore. So long as she was with Maria, she would be fine. She leaned forward to peck the brunette’s lips, but Maria jerked back, out of her reach.

“Whoa, Romanoff,” the brunette said, her eyes suddenly sparkling with mirth, “I’m not going to let you kiss me with that morning breath.”

Natasha threw her head back and laughed at that, making Maria join her. But she could feel the sudden urge to shower, to wash away the filth and just… the remnants of the previous day.

As if reading her mind, Maria pointed to the en-suite bathroom in her office, “There’s an extra toothbrush and towels in there,” she said, “And I could fetch you some clothes from your quarters, if you don’t want to go back?”

She looked so adorably hopeful, Natasha just had to agree. Maria gave her a lopsided grin, her gorgeous eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Okay, I’ll go once you’re done,” the brunette said, her smile turning nervous, “And then, uh, maybe you can help me with my shoulder…?”

Natasha’s heart was flooded with bittersweet emotions. In another era, neither she nor Maria would have ever gone to someone for help. They’d been lone wolves all their lives, licking their own wounds.

But right now, she was glad that Maria had asked for it, on her own. Natasha understood now, that it was perhaps one of the effects of being in love. There wasn’t any urge to keep up the walls anymore. The realisation made Natasha smile at her girlfriend, warmth buzzing within her.

“Of course,” she said softly, and noticed the brunette’s features relax.

Natasha stood up from the couch, stretching to loosen the sore muscles, and then held out her hand to Maria. The brunette eyed it for a bit before grabbing it and hauling herself up, following Natasha’s movements to get rid of the stiffness in her body.

“Hey, Maria?” Natasha called out.

The taller woman turned to look towards her, “Yeah?”

Natasha quickly hopped on her good foot to steal a kiss from her girlfriend, bouncing back on her heels before Maria could even respond.

“Gotcha,” she said, winking at the brunette’s bewildered expression.

With that, Natasha whirled around and strutted off to the washroom, grinning to herself when heard her girlfriend mutter under her breath, “Minx.”

* * *

Natasha was just about to get off the couch and check on Maria, when the brunette walked out of the washroom, drying her hair with her good hand. She was just in her track pants and a sports bra, and she hadn’t noticed Natasha just yet, with the towel blocking her view.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Natasha called out cheekily.

Maria turned to face her fully and Natasha could finally see her wound. The cut was just a few inches away from the strap of the brunette’s bra, and Natasha could see it wasn’t that bad. But just the fact that she had caused it was enough to make her heart twinge with guilt.

That, and all the bruises that were now visible on Maria’s body. Bruises that _she_ had given her. But Natasha breathed and gulped down the remorse, gently leading the brunette to the couch before going to get the medical supplies.

Maria tilted her neck upwards and kept her gaze fixed on Natasha’s face as she worked over her. Natasha was just done taping up her shoulder and was about to clear the materials when Maria stopped her, holding her hand gently.

The brunette made her sit down, snagging the supplies and squatting down herself. Before Natasha could ask her what she was doing, Maria had taken her ankle and was examining the sprain. The taller woman quickly gathered the stuff she needed and bandaged Natasha’s leg.

She looked up at Natasha once she was done, and Natasha noticed that the brunette was openly smirking at her. Natasha also realised that her own mouth was hanging open and she quickly shut it, “What’re you looking at?”

Maria grinned at her, “You’re adorable when you’re all hypnotised by hog.”

“You called me a minx barely 15 minutes ago,” Natasha deadpanned.

“Yeah, and I left out ‘saucy,’” Maria smirked, “But right now? You’re just impossibly cute.”

 _Adorable. Cute._ Natasha almost huffed. People had died for calling her lesser than that. But there was the woman of her dreams, crouched before her, gazing at her with all the love in her eyes. And Natasha just had to bend forward and kiss her. 

“What was that for?” Maria hummed, pulling back after a bit.

“Nothing,” Natasha mumbled, “You’re just… amazing.”

It wasn’t even nearly the praise Maria deserved, but the brunette gave her an ethereal smile, like she’d hung the moon and stars, and pressed her lips to Natasha’s once again.

“You should smile more often,” Natasha breathed, breaking apart eventually, “It looks gorgeous on you.”

Maria looked down at her own feet, her cheeks instantly colouring. She stood up, shaking her head shyly, and walked away to get her shirt, hiding her face from Natasha. And Natasha could hardly believe that she had just made the lieutenant blush.

Natasha walked up to her girlfriend, almost as if she was being pulled magnetically. She reached just when the brunette pulled the shirt over her head and turned around. And Natasha only stared up at her, entranced by the tides of affection cascading in Maria eyes.

The brunette smiled back at her, her hand reaching to put a stray strand of hair away from Natasha’s face, “You keep looking at me like that, and you’ll get me to do just about anything for you.”

* * *

“So, let me get this straight,” Maria huffed, swallowing the piece of bread, “You know how to make _chocolate soufflé_ ,” she said it like it was an unbelievable feat, “And yet, all this while we’ve been together, you always made _me_ cook?”

They were having breakfast at the cafeteria on the Helicarrier and given that it was still pretty early in the morning, they were almost the only ones there.

Natasha gave her a sheepish grin, “I was waiting for a special occasion” she mumbled, “Like a birthday, or an anniversary.”

Maria froze in the middle of her next bite and her eyebrows arched up, “ _Anniversary?”_

Natasha realised the slip-up and immediately schooled her features.

“Yeah, I’ve never had anniversary-sex,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, “And I’ve heard it’s mind-blowing.”

“I knew you had a one-track mind,” Maria smirked back, accepting the cover-up.

“ _Please_ ,” Natasha scoffed rather weakly, “Stop pretending like you wouldn’t want to hit _this_ ,” she motioned to her own body, “For a year.”

Under the table, Natasha hooked her leg around Maria’s, her toe gently running down the length of her calf. She watched as the brunette tried to maintain her expression, her own brow cocked up in challenge.

But internally, Natasha was somewhat nervous. She was scared that one day, Maria was going to realise just how much trouble she is, and she was going to leave. And Natasha couldn’t blame her if she ever did.

And after being with the brunette for so long, Natasha didn’t know what she’d do if Maria actually left her. It was a possibility she didn’t really want to contemplate. But the taller woman’s eyes softened eventually, as if she caught on Natasha’s worry,

“Well, then, Romanoff, I suggest you learn some other desserts as well,” Maria said, her own voice filling with hope, “Because that soufflé is only going to cover you for the _first_ year.”

It wasn’t so much a promise as it was an implication. But Natasha was moved, nevertheless.

It was almost as if Maria was asking her to share a _life_ with her. And instead of having the urge to bolt, like she would have if it were anyone but Maria, Natasha felt utterly calm. She felt like she’d at least _found_ her destination, even though she hadn’t reached it yet.

“I’ll think about it, Hill,” Natasha replied flippantly, but she didn’t even try to hide her joy as she beamed back at the taller woman.

Maria grinned at her, her face incandescent with relief, and shook her head fondly, “Are you ever going to let me have the last word?”

“Nope,” Natasha answered instantly, making the brunette chuckle.

“And it’s not only because I want to win,” she said, a playful grin tugging on her own lips, “I also want to defeat you.”

Natasha had uttered the words obliviously, but Maria instantly flinched in front of her. The movement was nearly imperceptible, but Natasha noticed it and wondered what she had said wrong. The brunette was still smiling, but it seemed forced, and her face had paled slightly, like she was remembering something.

But then Maria blinked rapidly and suddenly she was back. She gripped Natasha’s hand over the table, the touch soft but urgent.

“I wouldn’t mind losing to you,” Maria said, her voice quiet and wavering just a bit.

Natasha wanted to know what the woman was thinking, but before she could ask, Maria squeezed her hand, “We should, uh, get to work,” she said, giving her a clipped smile, “We have to go through the data.”

And just like that, the atmosphere had sobered.

Natasha’s mind went back to the conversation they’d been having just a minute ago. And suddenly, that anniversary seemed to be eons away. Because there was still a massive hurdle left for her to cross. For _them_ to cross.

But Natasha looked at Maria, her blue eyes warm yet resolute, and she felt maybe, it wouldn’t be so hard. Because this time, she had a lifetime of love waiting for her on the other side.


	31. Into the Unknown

## The Soldier

Maria felt like she was going to implode.

They had combed through the data for two full days – which were an ordeal on their own, because the whole time, Maria had to be painstakingly cautious of what she was letting Natasha read, so as to not accidentally trigger the redhead – and they had finally collated all the phrases the Red Room had been using on their girls over the years.

And the list was fucking long.

Of course, not all the triggers were meant for Natasha – _thankfully_ – but there wasn’t any explicit information for them to know which ones were. Which meant that they might have to experiment and try out each trigger.

Maria was in the medbay right now, with Fury and Natasha, to plan out the procedure that the redhead would have to undergo. The doctor – Dr Bell – had been studying their report for quite some time, her expression changing every now and then, and Maria felt her impatience getting to her.

“Okay,” Bell finally breathed, “I don’t think we’ll have to test all the triggers.”

Maria almost sagged with relief, but waited for the doctor to finish, “Gauging from Agent Romanoff’s previous triggers, and the latest one that Agent Hill mentioned, I believe that there could be a theme to the triggers planted in Romanoff.”

“Which means that we can filter out the ones that don’t follow the pattern,” Bell explained, “We have advanced algorithms that can classify the potential triggers quite accurately.”

“But there would be a possibility of missing out on some triggers that might not fall in the same category, right?” Natasha asked, her voice small, but sure.

“In theory, yes,” Bell answered instantly, as if expecting the question, “But realistically speaking, it’s unlikely.”

“You see, if anything, the Red Room deserves credit for being systematic,” Bell began, “They wouldn’t be able to put so many triggers in place effectively if they were all arbitrary. By having a unique and specific model, they were able to manipulate a part of your sub-conscious. And while it made their range of control limited, their intensity and potency were maximised this way.”

Maria clenched her fists, appalled by the sheer shrewdness. She could see that Fury was just as angry, his lips twisted into a fierce scowl.

“The only foreseeable concern is removing the triggers itself,” the doctor said warily, “Because from what I’ve read from your files, these triggers are far more convoluted than anything we’ve dealt with. So, there’s a chance that treatments might not work. Or, in the absolute worst-case scenario, even backfire.”

Maria immediately stiffened, but Bell spoke immediately, prepared for the reaction, “But we will try our best,” she said, her voice calm and professional, “We have the finest doctors here, and it might take a while, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Now,” Bell said after a bit, turning to face Maria fully, “Agent Hill, you said that you were able to bring Romanoff back? The last time she was triggered?”

Maria cleared her throat at suddenly being thrown under the spotlight, “Uh, yes,” she said, her eyes darting towards the redhead, “But I don’t think she was entirely gone.”

Bell cocked up an eyebrow, and Maria continued, “As in, she didn’t recognise me at all, but when I made references to past events and conversations, it seemed to disorient her,” she said, noticing Natasha’s guarded expression, “It was almost like she was trying to fight herself. Like maybe one part was overpowering the other?”

Maria struggled to explain it, and she seriously doubted just how coherent she was. But Bell listened intently, her hands flying over her tablet as she made notes. Maria hoped that the doctor wouldn’t ask her to clarify it any further. It felt weird talking about Natasha as if she weren’t even here.

Bell finally looked up, “This is actually good,” she said, a hopeful smile on her face.

“And we could make use of you, Agent,” the doctor added, addressing Maria, “To determine whether a trigger has been successfully removed. And to… _control_ Romanoff, if required.”

“Don’t worry,” Bell rushed to explain, eyeing the smaller woman, “The conditions will be regulated and monitored, and neither of you will be in any kind of danger.”

“Moreover, if the treatments go as planned, the triggers wouldn’t have any effect on Romanoff at all,” the doctor went on, “And there won’t be anything to worry about during the tests.”

“But this way, we wouldn’t need to use… _extreme measures_ , in case things get out of hand,” Bell said, weary of her words, “And you might also help in stabilising her _in between_ sessions.”

Maria blinked rapidly but didn’t allow her expression to change. She was honestly terrified at the possibility of seeing the Russian like that again. But if made things easier for Natasha, then maybe it would be worth it.

But before Maria could reply, the redhead beat her to it, “ _No.”_

Natasha squared her shoulders before speaking, her green orbs bright with determination, despite the apprehension on her face.

“Doctor, you have my full consent to take whatever steps necessary, if circumstances demand it,” the redhead said, her voice firm, if a little bitter.

“And you can keep me sedated in between the tests,” Natasha added, her jaw clenching.

The redhead took a rather shaky breath, “But I don’t want _anyone_ within my reach, when I’m –”

“Romanoff, it’s okay,” Maria found herself speaking before she even knew it, “I’m fine with assisting with the procedure.”

Natasha’s head whipped towards Maria, her eyes flashing with desperation, “No, Hill, I won’t allow that,” she said, her tone brooking no argument, “If there’s even the slightest chance that I could hurt you – or anybody else, for that matter – I won’t be able to go through with this.”

They glared at each for a while, and the air in the room suddenly grew heavy with the tension.

Bell eventually cleared her throat, and faced the troubled redhead, “Uh, okay, how about we come to a middle ground,” she suggested, her voice suddenly meek, “We won’t use Hill for the tests, but we’ll need her around on standby.”

“If not, we’ll have to keep you under comatose conditions,” the doctor clarified, “Which would bring in a whole other set of possible complications, and lengthen the treatment.”

 _Fuck,_ Maria thought, dread filling her at the words, _comatose conditions?_

Natasha was about to protest, and Maria was going to stop her, but they were both cut off by Fury’s booming voice.

“That’s enough, Romanoff,” he ordered, and the redhead almost shrunk away.

“I know you mean well, but we have to look at what’s best for everyone,” Fury said, his visible eye softening just a bit, “And that includes _you._ ”

“If there’s a way to make this whole thing even marginally painless for you, we _will_ choose that way,” the Director said definitively, “I told you you’re one of us. And we take care of what’s ours.”

Maria saw the fight leave her girlfriend, and she let herself calm down. She shot Fury a grateful smile, amazed at his ability to be so convincing with so few words. She’d been prepared to go all out to change Natasha’s mind.

Bell looked visibly relaxed, now that a decision was made, “Okay, then, when would you like to start?”

Natasha looked towards Maria, her eyes filled with fear, but her voice clear, “ _Now_.”

* * *

Maria instantly panicked at the redhead’s words. _Now is too soon._

As if reading her fright, Bell gently touched her arm, “I’ll give you some time,” she said softly, “I have to make the preparations for the procedure before we begin.”

The doctor left the room, Fury nodding and following her out, and then it was just the two of them.

They stared at each other for about 7 full seconds before the redhead all but leaped at her, hugging her with a force that made Maria stumble backwards. But she balanced herself and Natasha, tightening her arms around the smaller woman as she snuggled impossibly closer.

“Sorry, I should have asked for more time,” Natasha croaked eventually, “It’s just that I don’t want to be –”

“It’s okay,” Maria whispered, rubbing her back comfortingly, “I know.”

And she did. Maria could never know what it was like to unconsciously be under someone else’s influence. She couldn’t know the fear of being in a state where she could be blindly manipulated. But she understood Natasha’s need to get rid of that feeling as soon as possible.

But neither knew how long this would take to be over. Or, if it would even _be_ over. The thought was alarming enough, and Maria pressed her lips to the smaller woman’s hair fervently. Natasha pulled back, but kept her arms crossed behind Maria’s neck, and kissed her, long and deep.

“Promise me that you won’t let me hurt you,” the redhead hummed against her lips, “Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep me under control.”

Maria deepened the kiss, “Nat, please –”

“ _Promise me,”_ Natasha demanded, breaking apart to look up at Maria.

Maria saw the unshed tears in the redhead’s eyes, but she shook her head, “I can’t,” she said, her voice cracking, “I _won’t_ make that promise. Because it’s not needed.”

“You don’t know that!” Natasha all but yelled, her nails scratching the base of Maria’s neck, her voice frantic.

“You heard the doctor, Natasha,” Maria soothed her, “They’re going to take care of everything.”

“And moreover,” Maria whispered, “I know you’ll come back to me.”

She looked deep into the redhead’s orbs. _You’re braver than you know, and you’ll win this battle, like you always have. You’ll come back to me, like you always have._

Natasha shut her eyes and let a single tear fall over, smiling sadly, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Maria hated the question – and everything it insinuated – but her heart still broke at the words, and she found herself blinking back her own tears.

“You came to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she murmured instantly.

_You came to me._

Natasha tiptoed and kissed Maria, her lips trembling as she held back her sobs. They pulled apart eventually, and Maria rested her forehead against her girlfriend’s, savouring the proximity.

Natasha’s fingers gently caressed the nape of Maria’s neck, and Maria’s hands slid down to rest on the redhead’s hips. And she was reminded of the last time when they were in this position.

It was barely a week since then, but it might’ve been a whole other lifetime ago. Maria gulped, trying to get rid of the tightness in her throat.

“You know, I wanted to take you out dancing,” she whispered, rubbing a thumb on the redhead’s waist, “As my girlfriend.”

Natasha pulled back to tilt her head up, and looked at her. And Maria could see the barest hint of mirth in her glassy eyes, “Think you can keep up with me, Hill?”

“I’ll show you, Romanoff,” Maria grinned back wistfully, “Just… come back to me, and I’ll show you.”

Natasha gave her a pained smile, and Maria stared at her until the redhead’s chin started to quiver. She pulled her girlfriend to herself, letting the smaller woman hide her face in the crook of her neck as she sobbed ever so quietly.

But Maria didn’t let herself cry. Because this was _not_ a goodbye. She repeated it in her mind as she resolutely clenched her jaw, willing her tears away.

Natasha’s cries subsided much sooner than expected, and she shifted in Maria’s arms, her palm resting on Maria’s shoulder, right above her wound.

“You shouldn’t have agreed to be a part of this,” the redhead said, her voice small, “You shouldn’t have to go through any more –”

“But I want to,” Maria cut her off gently, “I _need_ to. I can’t let you do this on your own. Even though I know that _you_ don’t need me.”

“I do need you, Maria,” Natasha breathed, looking up and kissing her ardently, “I need you more than you’ll ever know.”

“And if… if this thing fails,” the redhead choked out, “You have to know that it wouldn’t be because I gave up.”

Maria could only tighten her arms around the shorter woman, not trusting herself to open her mouth without letting the sobs take over.

* * *

They didn’t even realise when Bell came into the room.

Reluctantly letting Natasha go, Maria took a few steps away and crossed her hands behind her back, clenching her fists.

“Are you, uh, are you ready to go?” Bell asked, clearing her throat.

Natasha looked at Maria, panic evident in her eyes. _No._

“Yes,” the redhead answered, her gaze still locked with Maria’s.

“Great,” Bell replied, “We’ll be moving you to a different room...”

“Okay, then,” Natasha said, her tone wavering just a bit, “Lead the way, doc.”

Maria watched as Bell nodded and walked out, Natasha following her. She wanted to call out to the redhead, but her voice seemed to have gotten caught in her throat.

Natasha stopped just a step away from the door, and then turned around and walked back to where Maria was standing.

The redhead looked up at Maria, her eyes gleaming with fear and hope, “One more for the road?”

Maria bent down as Natasha tiptoed, but moved her face right before their lips met, kissing the redhead on her cheek instead.

“No,” she whispered, pulling back to gaze at her girlfriend, “I want you to have something to come back for.”

Natasha’s eyes instantly filled with tears and Maria immediately turned around, unable to handle it anymore. She knew if she kissed – or even looked at – Natasha right now, she’d never let her go.

“Go now,” Maria barked, her back facing the redhead, her voice gruff with all the emotions she was bottling within her.

She heard Natasha shuffle away, and she waited for the soft click of the door closing before releasing the breath she was holding. She exited the room half a minute later, when she was sure she wouldn’t see Natasha outside, and then stalked off to her own office.

She made sure the door was locked before leaning against it and finally letting the tears fall.


	32. The Spy Who Loved Me

## The Soldier

Maria walked the same path she had walked for the past 2 months. Well, 2 months and 8 days, in case anyone was keeping count.

It was the path from her office to the room they’d kept Natasha in.

Maria’s strides were long and rather impatient, given that she was later than usual today. She didn’t see the familiar faces as she passed by the regular spots, and she guessed that everyone must have already returned to their quarters for the night.

As per the doctors’ instructions – and Natasha’s adamance – Maria was only allowed to be with the redhead during the nights. And they had realised early on during the redhead’s treatment, that they _needed_ Maria to be with Natasha during the nights.

The actual procedure they were carrying out on Natasha was a mixture of psycho- and neuro-therapy that Maria honestly hadn’t been able to grasp fully, even though Bell had sincerely tried to explain.

The sessions were very demanding, and the Russian would be drained out by the end of the day. So, they would let her sleep, to make sure she was mentally and physically rested for the next round.

But those sessions had also intensified the visions and nightmares that Natasha was already afflicted by. And nearly every night that Maria had been with her, the redhead had woken up, haunted – _tormented_ – by them, and Maria had had to soothe her, and even restrain her, at times.

The Russian would be outright violent on some nights, while she’d be in a catatonic state on others. There were also nights when the redhead wouldn’t even wake up fully; she’d just seize and convulse in the bed, her eyes screwed shut and her fingers clawing at the sheets helplessly.

Maria remembered the several times that she’d had to almost climb on top of Natasha, clamping down her wrists and locking her thighs to prevent her from thrashing and hurting herself.

Maria would never really know which nights were the worst.

And Natasha never recognised her. Every time Maria would hold her and calm her, the redhead would only look at her – if she even opened her eyes – with an utterly lost expression, her eyes frantic and her expression terrorised, and Maria would have the urge to just bawl uncontrollably.

The doctors had told Maria that all this was an effect of the treatment, and that it was expected, but it didn’t make it any easier. And even though Maria would never want to let go of a chance to look at her girlfriend’s gorgeous green orbs, every time she’d take her place on that godawful chair beside Natasha’s bed, she’d pray that the redhead wouldn’t wake up that night.

But not today.

Bell had given her the good news 3 days ago, that they were done with all the tests and experiments, and Natasha had responded well and surprisingly quickly to their treatment. They’d sedated her for a few days now, to make sure that her body and mind could recuperate and unscramble the memories.

But she was supposed to come around any time now. And despite maintaining her patience for past 2 months, Maria just couldn’t wait for Natasha wake up now.

Maria slipped into the sparsely lit room quietly, and sighed heavily when she found the redhead in the exact position as she had all these days. As per her tradition, Maria walked up to Natasha, bending to peck her sleeping girlfriend’s forehead, and then settled into the chair beside her bed.

After noticing that Maria was coming in almost every night, Bell had discreetly arranged for a small table along with the chair, so that Maria could do her own work, if she pleased. Placing her tablet and files over that table now, Maria scrubbed her face tiredly.

With the bare minimum sleep she was getting herself, and the bevy of missions Fury had thrown at her to manage (she suspected it was to keep her distracted), Maria was exhausted to the bone. She wondered just how much longer she could keep up her farce. Of being alright. Of handling it all.

Because she wasn’t. She was walking on thin ice, and her willpower was hanging by a flimsy thread, threatening to break away and never return.

Maria almost couldn’t believe that she could even miss someone’s presence so deeply in her life. Throughout these past months, something or the other would happen every day, and Maria would conspicuously feel the absence of the redhead.

Some days it was her knocking out rookie agents using a move that the spy had taught her, and on others, it was some agent ordering coffee the same way that Natasha liked it.

And she missed the redhead’s insane antics, despite how infuriating they would get at times.

Maria remembered the day, way before the op in Russia, when she had walked into the sparring ring to find Natasha and another agent – Hawkins…? Harkins…? Somehow, she always forgot his name – in an intense match. They had gathered quite a crowd of spectators who were just watching the Russian beat him to pulp.

No one had even attempted to stop the furious redhead, probably out of fear for their own wellbeing. And even as Maria had actually _dragged_ her girlfriend away from the man before she really killed him, Natasha had glared at the agent like she’d bite his head off.

Pulling the redhead into her office, Maria had demanded an explanation for her behaviour. Natasha had huffed and puffed – steam almost literally coming out of her ears – and told her that the guy had been bitching about Maria, calling her ‘freakishly tall for a woman,’ and something else that the redhead was just too enraged to even reveal.

Maria remembered laughing and kissing her girlfriend until her scowl disappeared.

She sighed miserably right now. The redhead had left behind a huge, gaping hole in Maria’s life.

Maria’s routine, her mannerisms – almost everything she did – had gotten an incurable sprinkle of _Natasha_ all over it. And even though Maria had thought she’d get used to working without it over time, she hadn’t. It was only becoming harder and harder for her to ignore the ache in her heart. It was almost like missing a limb.

Smiling wistfully at the memories, Maria looked over towards the redhead, her hand inching out on its own to move an errant strand of hair away from her girlfriend’s face.

_Come on, Nat. Wake up already._

But as always, the redhead didn’t open her eyes, and Maria dropped her head, breathing deeply to gather every ounce of her strength. She shifted her focus back onto the documents open on her tablet and dove into the work.

* * *

Maria had just finished typing out a report, and was taking a break, massaging her neck – which had been stiff for the past two months – when she heard a slight rustle beside her.

Her eyes immediately darted towards the source of the sound, but Natasha was still asleep, and Maria’s hope faded as soon as it had come.

And suddenly, she felt the silence biting into her skin.

The dim hospital lights almost seemed to bend around Natasha, as if sensing the darkness in the atmosphere, and Maria felt like the walls were caving in on her.

She shot out of her seat, overwhelmed by the need to just get some _air,_ and stalked towards the door as quietly as she could. Gripping the knob with her trembling hand, Maria was about to yank it open, when she thought she heard the rustle again.

“Hey there, hot stuff.”

And damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

## The Widow

Natasha could hardly make out her own voice as she called out to the brunette.

It was hoarse and weak, like she hadn’t used it since ages. Or like she had been crying for a really long time. Natasha couldn’t guess which one of the two it was. But she didn’t care.

She had woken up barely half a minute ago, and her body had been too tired to move or even blink. But she had opened her eyes just in time to see a hazy figure all but jump out of the chair beside her and walk off towards the door in front of her.

Natasha’s vision had been slightly blurry at the start, and she’d just had to guess who the person could have been. But right now, as her sight cleared, she knew it was Maria, the woman’s shoulder blades flexing in that familiar way in which they did every time she’d clench her fists.

She saw the brunette’s entire posture sag eventually, her head dropping slightly, before she finally turned around to face Natasha.

And Natasha’s breath caught at the relief in Maria’s eyes as she beamed at her. The brunette briskly came over to Natasha’s bed, crouching down to reach her level.

“ _God,_ Nat, you’re awake,” Maria said, but the smile soon died on her lips, “Do you – do you recognise me?”

Natasha’s brows furrowed at the question, but the worry in the brunette’s voice was genuine and she nodded slowly.

“Maria,” she croaked.

The taller woman shut her eyes at the reply, her features going slack with relief, like a huge burden was just lifted off her shoulders. Maria opened them soon enough, and Natasha found herself drowning the expressive blue orbs as they scanned her face.

The brunette was smiling at her, but her eyes were still filled with disbelief and fear, like she was scared that she would blink and the illusion would shatter. Gathering all her strength, Natasha lifted her hand to touch her girlfriend’s face, but it fell short just a few inches away.

But Maria caught it before it hit the bed, and immediately brought it to her lips, kissing her knuckles with ardour, “Welcome back.”

Natasha smiled widely and opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was too raw and parched. Noticing her discomfort, Maria quickly straightened herself to get her a glass of water. Returning within seconds, the brunette took Natasha’s hand again, kneeling beside the bed as she watched Natasha drink.

Natasha observed Maria over the rim of the glass, taking in her sunken cheeks and hollowed eyes, and she wondered when was the last time the woman had slept. She figured it had been a while, judging by the table filled with files right beside her. It made Natasha wonder when was the last time _she_ had been awake.

“How long… how long have I been out?” Natasha eventually murmured.

Maria frowned at that, “Uh, you’ve been unconscious for past 3 days,” she said, eyeing her carefully, “But the procedure took about 2 months to complete.”

 _“What?”_ Natasha squeaked, her mind reeling at the information.

“You don’t remember any of it?” Maria asked, her voice both relieved and concerned at the same time.

Natasha shook her head in a slow no. The last thing she recalled – _clearly_ recalled – was the final conversation she’d had with Maria, right before they took her to the lab. The stuff after that was all fuzzy – more like a huge blank – and her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the brunette’s words.

But before Maria could speak, there was a soft knock on the door. It was pushed slightly, and Dr Bell poked her head through the opening, her gazing darting between her and Maria.

“I see, Agent Romanoff, you’ve finally decided to wake up,” Bell said as she smiled and entered fully.

The doctor nodded at Maria before speaking again, “Don’t worry, Agents, I won’t take up too much of your time,” she said gently, “I just need to do some basic checks.”

Maria left her hand – reluctantly, Natasha noticed – and stood up, stepping away as she let the doctor take her place. Bell pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down, “So, I take it that you recognise Agent Hill?”

Natasha nodded, “Yes, but I don’t remember the _2 months_ that have apparently passed by since my treatment began,” she answered, panic slipping into her voice.

“Ah, yes,” Bell nodded thoughtfully, briefly glancing towards Maria, as if she was explaining it to her as well, “That was the last touch we added to your procedure.”

“You see, while the treatments and tests went well – flawlessly, actually – it took a toll on you, psychologically,” the doctor clarified, somewhat guiltily, “Your nightmares were aggravated in a manner that we hadn’t been able to foresee.”

Natasha shut her eyes at that, almost relieved that she couldn’t remember them. But they suddenly flashed open, dread filling her instantly, “Did I –”

“Agent Hill managed to calm you down,” Bell gently cut her off, her gaze darting towards Maria, her voice lined with awe, “Every time.”

Natasha immediately looked up towards the brunette, blinking at the taller woman in gratitude. But from Maria’s dark expression, she could guess it wasn’t something she wanted to be reminded.

Bell waited for her to look at her before continuing, “But we still wanted to try and ensure that you didn’t carry that experience forward with you,” she smiled sympathetically, “And looks like it has worked.”

“Does she have to go through any more final tests?” Maria asked, her voice clipped, “For the triggers?”

The doctor immediately shook her head, “No, we’re done with everything,” she said earnestly, grinning at Natasha, “Agent Romanoff, you’re officially free of all your triggers.”

Natasha felt a blanket of peace wash over her, and she looked back at Maria, smiling when she saw her own solace reflected on the taller woman’s face.

“Okay, I just need to check some stuff real quick,” Bell said, “Could you sit up for me?”

Natasha tried to get up, but her limbs felt like lead, and she grit her teeth. Swallowing down her embarrassment, she glanced towards Maria, and the woman readily came over. The brunette put one arm around Natasha, holding her lightly, while the other one gently pulled her up into a sitting position.

Maria took a brief look at the doctor, who was busy fiddling with her tablet, and then quickly leaned forward to peck Natasha’s cheek. Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the move as she pulled back and stepped away.

And Natasha could hardly keep a straight face as Bell went ahead with the check-up, asking Natasha customary questions and advising her about the care she’d need to take for the next few days. The doctor stood up once she was satisfied, giving both of them a nod and a warm smile as she left the room.

Natasha looked up to her girlfriend and grinned widely. Maria immediately smiled back and sat down in the chair that Bell had vacated, her hand automatically entangling with Natasha’s.

“So… _two months,_ huh?” Natasha said eventually, still a little breathless, “I’m sorry I can’t remember any of it.”

Maria shook her head, her gaze fixed on their entwined fingers, “I’m glad you can’t,” she mumbled, her voice small, but tight.

Natasha tightened her grip over the brunette’s hand, making her look up at her, “Tell me, honestly,” she said, her expression serious, “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

“No, Nat, you didn’t,” Maria replied instantly, her voice barely above a whisper, “The only one in any kind of pain was you.” 

_And you,_ Natasha wanted to add as she took in the haunted look in the brunette’s eyes. But Natasha kept quiet and simply watched Maria play with her fingers, letting her presence soothe the taller woman.

She saw the half-smile on Maria’s lips after a while, and she tugged at their enmeshed hands once again, “What are you thinking?”

The brunette widened her grin, “Nothing. I just… I _really_ missed you.”

Natasha rubbed her girlfriend’s knuckles gently, and Maria continued, “For the longest time, it felt like things were moving way too slowly. That this would never end,” she said, chuckling breathlessly, “But right now, seeing you like this, these 2 months of waiting have almost evaporated.”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Natasha replied sincerely, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Maria opened her mouth to speak, but Natasha beat her to it, “I _will_ make it up to you.”

_Even though you think I’ve already made it up to you, I still want to._

Maria only gave her a warm smile and shook her head fondly, “How about I settle our debt first?”

Natasha knitted her forehead in confusion, and Maria grinned at her, “I believe I owe you a kiss.”

And the memory instantly came back to Natasha. She remembered the tortured look on the brunette’s face in those last moments. Natasha had wanted to tell Maria back then, that she already had something to come back for. _Her._ But she simply hadn’t been able to find her voice.

Natasha noticed the brunette lean forward to take her lips, and she moved her face just a little bit, out of her reach, making Maria cock up an eyebrow in question.

“What?” Natasha mock-huffed, smirking at the taller woman, “No more complaints about my morning breath?”

Maria chuckled at that, her free hand tangling into Natasha’s hair to draw her close, “Just… kiss me, Romanoff.”

And Natasha just had to.


	33. Home at Last

## The Widow

Natasha waited impatiently behind Maria as the taller woman fumbled with her keys to open the door to her house.

It was 6 days since her treatment had been over, and she wasn’t allowed to go on any mission – or even workout too much – for another week. And she’d gone stir-crazy just sitting in her quarters and roaming around the Helicarrier doing nothing (except rolling her eyes every 3 seconds). So, _naturally_ , she’d nagged Fury until he sanctioned her shore leave. And Maria’s.

This past week, Natasha had noticed how exhausted the brunette was. She had passed by the gym yesterday, and Maria had been there, sparring with Agent Hopkins – the same asshole who’d passed unnecessary comments about Hill’s not-so-busty chest – and she’d barely been concentrating. Natasha’s heart had leapt into her throat when she saw the brunette nearly get socked in her jaw.

(She’d personally gone in there, after Maria had left, and given Hopkins his due: a bloody nose, a bruised lip, and hopefully some broken ribs. But, of course, Maria had no knowledge of this.)

And the woman hadn’t been sleeping well.

They’d been sleeping in Natasha’s quarters, and Natasha had noticed that Maria always slept after her and woke up before her. And the few times that Natasha had awoken in the middle of the night, she’d seen that even when the brunette slept, her features were tense. Like she was trying to stay alert, or cautious about something.

Maria had been fine during the days, though. She wasn’t moping or irritated or troubled. Just tired. As much as the lieutenant had tried to cover it up, Natasha had noticed it. And she’d decided to take things in her hands, and convinced (blackmailed and harassed, more like) Fury to let them take a few days off.

Maria finally unlocked the door and the two of them shuffled into the apartment. The brunette dragged herself to the couch, dropping her stuff beside it, and flopped onto the seat. Natasha closed the door, bolted it and then joined her girlfriend.

Maria’s head was thrown back against the couch, her eyes closed and her features slack, and Natasha could see the fatigue on her face.

She ran a soft hand over the taller woman’s thigh, “We’re already done with dinner, so do you just want to call it a night?”

Maria shook her head, opening her eyes, “No, no, we’re not going to be that old couple,” she said, “Uh, how about watching a movie…?”

Natasha wanted to laugh at that. Because she could bet that the brunette wasn’t going to last even the first half hour.

She smiled at her girlfriend, “Sure, why don’t we get changed and freshened up first?”

* * *

Much to Natasha’s surprise, they’d made it past the interval without Maria nodding off. But when she threw a side glance towards the brunette, she knew it was a losing battle.

They were wrapped in a comforter on the couch, their arms pressed against each other, and Natasha could see Maria’s eyelids drooping in her peripheral vision. She tried to extract her arm to take the brunette’s head on her shoulder, but Maria noticed it.

“I’m not falling asleep,” the taller woman mumbled, looking over to Natasha, “I’m paying attention, I promise.”

“It’s okay even if you’re not,” Natasha said softly, “I know you’re tired.”

“M’not,” Maria protested weakly.

“And I know you haven’t been sleeping well,” Natasha added, completely disregarding the brunette’s earlier claim.

A bone twitched in Maria’s jaw, her gazing dropping to her lap. She took a few breaths and then looked up straight at the TV, ignoring Natasha.

Natasha raised her free hand and her thumb caressed the brunette’s jaw, “Tell me what’s bothering you,” she whispered, “How long are you going to make me watch you like this?”

Maria looked back at her, her eyes softening as she saw the sincerity on Natasha’s face. She sighed heavily and then shifted from her position, lifting her feet onto the couch as she laid her head in Natasha’s lap.

Natasha immediately took the TV’s remote and reduced the volume, making the sound fade into the background. She started running her fingers through Maria’s hair, and the brunette closed her eyes in bliss, her features relaxing instantly at the touch.

Just when Natasha was sure Maria was asleep, the woman stirred slightly, “You know what’s my greatest fear?”

Natasha didn’t stiffen, but her fingers faltered for just a second in the brunette’s tresses. She resumed the motion gently, silently urging the woman to continue.

Maria took a long breath before speaking, her voice paper-thin, “I’m scared that someday, someone is going to need my help, and I’m not going be there for them.”

Natasha’s breath hitched at the words and her hand froze. Because Maria had indirectly confirmed her guess.

“You don’t have to worry, Maria,” Natasha said instantly, “Those nightmares… I haven’t had them ever since the treatment has completed.”

“ _I know,_ ” Maria replied, her eyes scrunching close frustratedly, “I also know that you don’t remember them or how bad they were. But I still fear that some night, you’re going to have one, and I’m going to sleep right through it.”

Natasha found herself at a complete loss for words. The incredible woman just kept finding ways to make her heart twinge with the sweetest pain. She ran a finger gently across Maria’s forehead, willing her girlfriend’s tension away.

“Even if you do, I’ll still be okay,” Natasha whispered eventually, making Maria open her eyes and scan her face.

Natasha gave her a genuine smile, “You don’t have to _do_ anything to make me feel better, Maria,” she murmured, her thumb tracing the path under the brunette’s eye reverently, “Your presence _–_ or even just your _thought_ , at times – is enough.”

“I don’t know what it is that you do – or maybe it’s just _everything_ you do – but I feel safe with you,” Natasha revealed, making Maria smile.

It was a truth she had admitted to herself long back. But it still managed to confound her, every time she thought about it. Because it was ironic how safe she felt around the very person she wanted to protect.

“You never have to worry about not being there for me,” Natasha said, her voice heavy with emotions, “You’ve _always_ watched by back, and I know you always will. One way or the other.”

Maria chuckled tiredly, “That’s only because you have an awesome six.”

Natasha threw her head back as she laughed, satisfied that the stress had finally left her girlfriend. She looked back at the brunette once the laughter fizzled out, “Now, please, let _me_ take care of _you_ , for once.”

Natasha didn’t intend for it to sound as desperate as it did. But Maria only hummed in response and turned over on her side, her face burrowing into Natasha’s stomach. Natasha placed her hand back into the Maria’s hair, repeating the soothing ministrations.

“I hope you know that you don’t have to prove anything to me,” the brunette murmured after a bit, her voice muffled by Natasha’s shirt, “I know you’re looking out for me too.”

Maria’s eyes were closed, and she couldn’t see the fond grin on Natasha’s face. _Of course, you have to say the right thing, every single time._

Her smile hadn’t even faded before the brunette fell asleep, and Natasha spent the better part of the night just gazing at her girlfriend’s face as she slept peacefully, probably for the first time in months. 

## The Soldier

Maria woke up the next day feeling warm and better rested than she had since forever.

She disentangled herself from the comforter pulled over her, and sat up on the couch, her senses aroused by the aroma of coffee wafting in the air.

She noticed the sunlight coming in through the window and she knew she’d slept way past her usual time. _Wow, I’m so behind schedule,_ Maria realised, thinking about the several reports she had promised to send Fury.

She quickly freshened up before following the faint clatter coming from her kitchen. She poked her head in and found Natasha fluttering about in there. The woman was a sight behold, despite being clad in just tights and one of Maria’s West Point shirts, which was adorably oversized for her.

Maria noticed her wet hair, realising that the redhead had already showered, and she marvelled at the fact that she had slept right through all that.

She leaned against the wall at the entrance, admiring her girlfriend, “Hey there, hot stuff.”

Natasha’s head whipped towards her, “Ah, thou hast risen,” she said theatrically, grinning at her, “I didn’t know you had it in you to wake up after 8 a.m., Agent Hill.”

“As much as everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks so,” Maria said, walking up to the redhead and kissing her lightly, “I’m not a robot.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll vouch for that,” Natasha replied, winking at her.

Maria chuckled and gave her a staged once-over, “By the way,” she began, tugging at the redhead’s shirt, “I’m starting to wonder why I bothered to squander half my paycheque on clothes for you, considering that you hardly even wear any of them.”

Natasha smirked at her, “You mean I don’t look good in this?” she pouted innocently, “I could take it off for you,” she added, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Maria tried to maintain her flippant expression, but the redhead was already biting her lip in that damned sensuous way that always drove her crazy. Maria even cocked up an eyebrow haughtily, but her girlfriend was grinning smugly, and both knew who had won.

“Minx,” Maria growled before pulling the shirt above Natasha’s head, her gaze instantly roaming over the redhead’s perfect body, and Natasha laughed outright.

Maria’s eyes darted towards the clock one last time before Natasha drew her in for a slow, passionate kiss, her hand slipping under Maria’s shirt to feel her abs.

_Hell, schedule be damned._

* * *

Maria exited the washroom after her shower, drying her hair with one hand, and she could smell the pancakes. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for her, and she felt a silly grin break out on her face.

Walking further into the room, Maria noticed the duffle bag she’d brought from S.H.I.E.L.D. yesterday kept neatly beside the bed. She guessed Natasha must have transferred it there, considering that Maria hadn’t bothered to do it last night.

She bent down and unzipped it to take out her tablet. She rummaged through it blindly, not checking if she was searching the right compartment, and her hand froze when she felt a familiar leather sheath. Maria’s fingers curled around it and she pulled out the scabbard along with the knife inside it from the bag.

She had totally forgotten about it. It was supposed to be Natasha’s birthday gift that Maria had gotten for her months ago, before the whole Red Guardian-fiasco.

She’d thought it was a reasonable idea back then, because (a) she sucked at gifts, (b) she had no idea if Natasha even celebrated her birthday or wanted a gift from her, and this was the only thing she could come up with, and (c) she _sucked_ at gifts.

But Maria realised now just how incredibly lame it was. _Who gives someone a knife for their birthday?_

She was almost glad that Natasha’s birthday had passed by a few weeks ago, during the redhead’s treatment. She was just about to shove the dagger back inside the bag (and forget about its existence forever) when Natasha sauntered in.

“Hey, where do you –”

The redhead stopped speaking just as Maria stood up awkwardly, hiding the knife behind her back. _Smooth, Hill,_ she chided herself, feeling like a teenager who’d been caught by the principal smoking weed.

Natasha narrowed her eyes suspiciously for a second, before schooling her features, “Where do you keep your chocolate syrup?”

Maria was surprised that the spy wasn’t questioning her, but she let it slide for the moment, “Uh… I don’t have chocolate syrup.”

“Are you kidding me?” the redhead countered, her expression mock-offended, “How can you not have chocolate syrup? What would you have with your pancakes?”

“It’s supposed to be _maple_ syrup and pancakes, Romanoff,” Maria replied with feigned nonchalance.

She played it cool, but she was expecting Natasha to ask her what she was so obviously hiding any second now.

Natasha only scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Well, then, Hill, where do you keep your _maple_ syrup?”

Now, Maria was really perplexed, “Okay, seriously, you aren’t going to ask me what’s behind my back?”

“If it’s got you this flustered, then it must be pretty embarrassing,” Natasha replied breezily, a small grin tugging at her lips.

And just like that, all the nervousness left Maria, and she chuckled back at her girlfriend. She walked up to her, stopping when she was just a step away, and brought her hand forward to reveal the knife. The smile immediately died on Natasha’s lips and her hand came up to accept the weapon.

The redhead unsheathed the blade and examined it intently. Maria observed her as she turned the knife around to take in the details. It was a wicked beautiful dagger. Maria knew that, because she’d gotten it custom-made.

The hilt was black, save for the blood-red hourglass embedded into it, extending from the base of blade till the end of the handle, forming the Black Widow’s insignia. The shape was made of translucent tempered glass, and the red colour of the symbol shimmered just a bit when light passed through it. The blade itself was matte black and double-edged, making it an overall menacing weapon to wield.

It was sharp, classy and deadly, all at the same time. Just like Natasha.

But right now, Maria felt super dumb at the effort she’d put into the damned thing. _What was I even thinking?_

Natasha, however, was looking at it rather fondly. Like she actually liked it. She looked up at Maria, her eyes wide, “Were you ever planning on giving this to me?”

The disbelief in her voice threw Maria off even more, “I, uh, it was a gift,” she said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly, “I didn’t know what to get you for your birthday – I didn’t even know if birthdays were a thing for you – and I didn’t know if you were into jewellery and that kind of stuff, and I’m really bad with gifts, and –”

“Stop, _God_ ,” Natasha said, laughing breathlessly, “I love it.”

Maria blinked at her, shocked, “Really?”

Natasha nodded and placed the blade back into it scabbard, admiring the hilt once again. And Maria just had to bend down and kiss her, relieved at the redhead’s approval.

Natasha pulled back eventually, a gorgeous smile tugging at her lips, “How’d you even think of getting me this?”

Maria thought it would be meant as a teasing question, but she could hear the genuine curiosity in the shorter woman’s voice. And Maria really didn’t have an answer, but she still had to say something, “You once told me that knives were fun.”

Maria remembered the spy’s cold eyes when she had said the words to her. And she waited for the brief wave of dread to course through her, the way it did every time the memory of the redhead as Natalia crossed her mind.

But it didn’t come.

She looked at her girlfriend right now, her green eyes warm and her expression gentle, and all Maria felt was love for the woman of her dreams.

Natasha cocked her head sideways, trying to remember the conversation, and Maria beamed back at her, revelling in the fact that the last vestige of fear had left her. Natasha knitted her forehead when she couldn’t recall the memory, but Maria simply shook her head dismissively and kissed her.

“Happy birthday,” she hummed against the redhead’s lips, “Belated.”

The redhead smiled as she pulled back, “Just so you know, I don’t really do birthdays, but I wouldn’t mind the gifts,” she said her eyes dancing with mischief, “Especially if they’re this creative.”

She let Maria huff before speaking again, “When is _your_ birthday, though?” she asked, “I’d like to go big for you too, you know.”

Maria stiffened before she even realised it, and Natasha’s expression froze. Maria willed herself to loosen up and gave the redhead a reassuring smile. If it were anyone else, she would have immediately deflected the question, avoiding any conversation about her birthday and childhood in general. But this was Natasha.

Maria sighed before answering, “I don’t celebrate my birthday,” she said, her voice clipped, “I never have, actually.”

“My mother… she died giving birth to me,” Maria revealed, her expression neutral, “So, you can see why it wasn’t exactly my dad’s favourite day of the year.”

The redhead rubbed her arm gently, a sad smile on her lips, “You never talk about your dad…”

She let it trail off, her eyes imploring. Like she was waiting for Maria to open up. And if there was a person on the planet who Maria would share all of it with, it was Natasha.

Maria placed her hand over the redhead’s on her arm, “Yeah, well, he wasn’t the best dad in the world.”

Maria paused to blink as the images briefly flashed before her eyes. Of the countless bottles of alcohol. Of the bruises that would mark her body for days.

“But I stopped blaming him,” Maria went on, her voice no longer bitter like it once used to be, “It was a major loss for him. Losing his wife like that,” she shrugged, “It was different for me; I never really knew her to feel the grief.”

“But he should have been there for you,” Natasha countered, her voice a low growl.

Maria was touched at how defensive the redhead was on her behalf. It was adorable, but unnecessary. Because Maria had moved on, long back.

“Yeah, he should have,” Maria said quietly, “I’ve always had a roof over my head – during my childhood, and later on in my life – but I never really knew what it felt like to… _come back home_ to someone.”

_To be safe. To be cherished._

Maria brought her girlfriend’s hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles gently, “I do now.”

The smile that Natasha gave her was dazzling, despite the softness in her expressive orbs. The redhead stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, and Maria hugged her back, resting her cheek against her hair.

“I also never used to celebrate my birthday,” Natasha said after a bit, “Because I didn’t even know if it was real. I didn’t know who _I_ was.”

“But then one year, Clint tried to bake me a cake,” the redhead continued, her voice filled with fondness, “And it was an utter massacre. He had frosting in his hair for the whole day,” she said, and Maria chuckled along with her, “It was one of those few times in my life that I had laughed like that.”

“And it has become somewhat of a tradition now,” Natasha continued, “We try to make a new dish that neither of us has before – _try_ being the operative word – and just… _laugh_ at each other when we fail miserably.”

“Well, then, we should call Barton over some time and keep up the tradition. I have all the supplies for you guys,” Maria said, “I’d _love_ to see him in that pink, frilly apron stashed in my closet.”

Natasha laughed into her chest, and Maria joined her, tightening her arms around her girlfriend. She sighed as a sense of wholeness filled her. She had her entire world right here, and it was just as overwhelming as it was comforting.

Natasha pulled back after a while, clutching the dagger close to her heart, “Thanks again, for this,” she said, and Maria smiled back at her.

“Now, I know I might have given you the impression that I’m the worst cook ever,” the redhead said, smirking at Maria, “But I can assure you that my pancakes are to die for.”

Maria grinned back at her girlfriend, her arms encircling the shorter with her arms, holding her captive, “ _I’ll_ be the judge of that, Romanoff.”


	34. Thinking Out Loud

## The Widow

“What do you want to do today?” Maria asked, propping herself on her elbow as she gazed at Natasha over the covers.

The finger caressing the brunette’s bicep stopped for just a second as Natasha considered the question. They were 2 days into their little holiday, and they’d spent both at home, relaxing and unwinding. (And catching up on the 2 months’ worth of sex that they had missed out on).

“I thought you might want to go out?” Maria added, “Considering that you’ve been holed up indoors for too many days.”

It was true. Natasha had been bored to death when they were back on the Helicarrier. It was different right now, though, in Maria’s house.

But she hummed in approval, “Sure,” she said, looking up at her girlfriend, “You did promise me a night out dancing.”

The brunette grinned smugly, “I was hoping you would say that,” she said, reaching for the drawers near her side of the bed and producing two tickets.

They were for one of those Latin dancing events where random people from all over gathered and just danced freely to the music that was played. It was a bold move on Maria’s part, given that Natasha had expected a quieter affair from the reclusive lieutenant.

“Whoa!” Natasha exclaimed, quirking up an eyebrow, “You really want to take this to the next level, huh?”

“You’re the one who didn’t believe that I could dance,” Maria replied, shrugging noncommittally, “I thought I might as well give you a real run for your money.”

“You do know that I’m trained in ballet, right?” Natasha pointed out, even though she was sure the brunette was aware of it.

“Oh, I know,” Maria said, her voice delightfully husky, a sexy smirk tugging at her lips, “I know _exactly_ how your body moves.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Natasha countered, an eyebrow cocked up haughtily.

She threw the covers off as she rose and climbed on top of Maria, her thighs straddling brunette’s hips.

“Let’s see if you can make it move the way _you_ want,” she challenged, grinning devilishly at her girlfriend.

Maria lifted her hands to grab Natasha’s waist, but Natasha predicted it and gripped her wrists. She leaned forward as she pushed Maria’s hands into the mattress, effectively pinning the brunette under her.

Natasha noticed Maria’s hips buck just a bit as she shifted her weight, and her smile widened even more. She brushed her lips over Maria’s ear, nipping along the shell.

“ _On the dancefloor,_ ” Natasha whispered, her voice low and sultry, despite the playful quip.

But instead of replying, Maria chose to take advantage of Natasha’s exposed neck and nibbled at the spot that she knew drove Natasha crazy, the teeth grazing along her skin leaving goose bumps in their wake. And a treacherous moan escaped Natasha’s lips before she could even help it.

Maria let out a throaty chuckle and Natasha pulled back just a bit to see the triumphant look on her girlfriend’s face. _Of course, she wasn’t going to give up._ Natasha found it hard to hide her own proud expression.

Maria smirked at her, “Told you, I –” 

Natasha rushed forward and pressed her lips against the brunette’s, shutting her up. Maria laughed into her mouth, but kissed her back eagerly. Natasha left the brunette’s wrists to tangle her hands into her girlfriend’s hair, allowing Maria to flip them over if she wanted to.

But the brunette simply wrapped an arm around Natasha’s waist, holding her in place, while the other hand roved over Natasha’s naked back as they kept kissing each other hungrily.

And Natasha had to wonder just who had won.

* * *

Maria slapped her hand over the keys on the table.

“Nope,” she said possessively, “No one drives my car but me.”

It was evening and they’d gotten ready for their little dinner-and-dance-and-drinks, and Natasha had almost wanted to stay in and jump the brunette’s bones when Maria had emerged from the bedroom. She was looking hot-as-hell in that leather jacket, the top hugging her lithe figure perfectly, the jeans making the woman’s legs look even longer.

But then, a casual night out did sound promising. And so, there they were, arguing over who took charge of Maria’s car.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Natasha tried pouting, “I’m sure Chevy wouldn’t mind a new set of hands.”

“Please, don’t call my car _that,_ ” the brunette immediately grimaced, “It somehow always sounds like a hooker’s name to me.”

“Well, you do get inside her and drive her,” Natasha pointed out, struggling to keep a straight face, “And that’s insensitive, by the way.”

Maria laughed outright at that, and Natasha joined her. She tried to use the distraction to snag the keys out of the brunette’s grip, but the lieutenant was sharp and caught the movement. Maria raised her hand to dangle the keys high above Natasha’s head, completely out of her reach.

Natasha knew – and she knew that _Maria_ knew this too – that she could easily tackle the woman and wrestle the keys away from her. But she didn’t make any move, letting the brunette have her illusion of victory.

“Okay,” Natasha said, throwing her hands up in surrender, “How about we make a deal?”

The taller woman gave her an incredulous look and slowly lowered her hand back onto the table, still eyeing Natasha carefully, like she was expecting a surprise manoeuvre any second.

“You can have _Chevy_ for now,” Natasha said purposely, nearly making Maria gag, “But if you don’t manage to impress me later today,” she continued, an eyebrow cocked up, “Then I get to drive on the way back home.”

Maria considered the challenge for a bit, but her expression softened soon enough. Like she knew she was going to give in to Natasha’s every demand either way.

The brunette smirked at her, nevertheless, “You’re on,” she said, her gaze locked with Natasha’s, “And speaking of home…”

Maria let the sentence trail off as she turned around and jogged back into the bedroom. Natasha stood there, baffled at the brunette’s rather nervous excitement.

Maria returned a minute later, a jingle of metal coming from her hands, even though the car keys were still on the table. She walked up to Natasha before uncurling her fingers to reveal the item in her hand.

It was a familiar set of keys.

Natasha looked up at Maria, waiting for an explanation, and the brunette gave her a small, hopeful smile.

“I know we’re rarely away from the Helicarrier,” Maria said softly, fidgeting with the keys in her hand, “But these are yours, if you’d like to have a home outside of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Natasha smiled breathlessly, touched by the gesture. She shook her head fondly and took the keys from Maria, making the brunette’s entire face light up.

Natasha smiled, because Maria couldn’t know that she had already found her home, long back. She smiled, because the brunette didn’t seem to realise that _she_ was her home.

Natasha tiptoed and kissed her girlfriend, her free hand resting at the nape of Maria’s neck, “Thank you.”

The taller woman pulled back and raised an eyebrow, “Mind you, Romanoff,” she said, her blue orbs glimmering with mirth, “Those are the _only_ keys you’ll be getting tonight.”

_It doesn’t matter if you don’t let me have your car. You’ve already let me have your heart._

Natasha smirked back, “We’ll see about that, Hill.”

Maria flashed her a radiant grin, holding out her elbow, and Natasha immediately hooked her arm through her girlfriend’s.

“Well, then,” Maria said, looking deep into Natasha’s eyes as she rested her palm on Natasha’s fingers over her arm, “The night awaits.”

## The Soldier

Maria sat at the open-air bar, nursing her second scotch-and-soda.

Natasha was seated on a stool right beside hers, her head bobbing to the music that was playing in the background as she assessed the crowd. There weren’t too many people on the dancefloor, but the music was still light and lounge-y; not too much fun to dance to, for what they had in mind.

Maria’s eyes kept drifting towards the redhead, and she struggled to hide the fact that she was straight-up ogling her girlfriend.

She couldn’t help it though; Natasha was looking drop-dead gorgeous in that dress, the black colour complementing her flaming red hair. Maria didn’t know if it was the eyeliner, or the hint of rouge on the redhead’s cheeks, or the soft lighting around them, but Natasha’s face was almost literally glowing. Her look was completely casual, but the redhead pulled it off like no one could.

“You’re allowed to stare, you know,” Natasha said, her gaze still fixed ahead, but a lopsided grin dancing on her lips, “I _am_ your girlfriend.”

The redhead turned to face Maria and smirked at her sheepish expression. Maria ducked her head shyly, and for some unfathomable reason, Natasha’s expression softened. Maria shuddered visibly, her girlfriend’s beauty hitting her like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind right out of her. And she had to look away and just… _breathe._

The redhead grinned at her and turned around to call out to the bartender, ordering yet another refill. It was her fourth round of vodka – _neat_ – and Maria marvelled at just how well Natasha was holding her alcohol. Maria motioned at the bartender for a top-up herself, and then turned back to clink her glass with Natasha’s.

They stayed like that for some time, throwing surreptitious glances at each other over their drinks, waiting for the music change into something with a Latin flavour. So that they could take their little tango to the actual dancefloor.

* * *

Maria was swirling her glass, her gaze following the golden liquid as it whirled, when she felt a gentle hand on her arm.

She didn’t look up, still mesmerised by the motion of the liquid, “Hey, yeah, the music is finally –”

Maria stopped abruptly when her eyes landed on the person in front of her. She took in the woman – average height, blonde hair, pronounced cheek bones, athletic figure – and then frowned slightly when she didn’t recognise her.

“Hey,” Blondie said, her voice soft but confident, “I was going to ask you if I could buy you a drink, but you seem more into the music,” she flashed Maria a flirty grin, “So, can I have this dance?”

Maria couldn’t have raised her eyebrows higher, baffled at the unexpected proposition. If she was being honest, it had been a while, and she didn’t know how to respond to anyone else’s flirting except Natasha’s.

Her eyes automatically scanned the crowd for the redhead, who had gone to the washroom, and she spotted Natasha weaving through the throng of people, making her way back to Maria.

“Thanks,” she replied to the blonde, her gaze still darting towards her girlfriend as she came closer, “But I’m actually with someone.”

Blondie followed Maria’s gaze and gave Natasha a once-over before looking back at Maria rather self-consciously. Maria gave her a casual, reassuring smile, and nodded as the woman left.

Natasha was barely two steps away, and Maria could see her cool expression. But she could guess that the spy had seen everything and understood exactly what had happened. (Or, rather, what _hadn’t_ happened).

“She was hot,” Natasha said, jutting her chin in the direction that the blonde had walked off in, “You should have let her buy you that drink,” she said, her voice light and playful, “Life lesson 101, Hill: never deny free booze.”

“Ever broke, aren’t you, Romanoff?” Maria teased, making Natasha shrug cheekily,

“On a serious note,” Maria added, “I literally didn’t see that coming. Sorry if it bothered you.”

The redhead gave her a dismissive wave, “Nah, I feel her,” she came forward and gripped the lapels of Maria’s jacket.

“I _totally_ see the appeal,” Natasha breathed, gazing at Maria through her hooded eyes.

Maria grinned at her, “Well, I hadn’t dreamt that someone would make a move on me tonight, when I’m here with you.”

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Nat,” Maria replied, “I would expect something like this to happen to you. I mean, you’re… well, _you_ ,” she winked at the redhead, “With that charming ass of yours, you could have anyone you want here.”

 _You deserve the world,_ Maria thought as she smiled at Natasha genuinely, _and I won’t ever stand in your way, if you decide to take it._

Because Maria knew that there was only so much she had to offer.

And till now, Natasha had quietly taken it, like it was all she’d ever needed. Contrary to what Maria had thought – given that the redhead’s level of sass was _off the charts_ – Natasha had turned out to be pretty low maintenance. But Maria was scared that one fine day, it – _she –_ would stop being enough for the redhead.

Besides, she wasn’t even being self-deprecating or selling herself short; she was just stating facts. But the spy looked miffed, her eyes ablaze with an emotion that Maria couldn’t read.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Natasha said after a bit, her voice soft despite the glare.

The hands fisting Maria’s jacket clenched tighter and the redhead tugged her closer, locking their gazes firmly. And just like that, the bar, the music, the din of the chatter – everything – faded away into the background. And all that was left was just _Natasha._

“You’re beautiful, Maria,” the redhead whispered, “You’re too busy fussing over mission plans and correcting everyone’s mistakes to notice just how many heads turn when you walk in,” she said, “Or maybe you do notice, and you just don’t care.”

Maria shook her head and opened her mouth, but Natasha wasn’t done.

“Now, I’m someone who reads people for a living,” she continued, “But you still manage to find ways to amaze me,” she said, shaking her head fondly, “To literally take my breath away, at times.”

“You’re unwavering, even under the worst circumstances,” the redhead continued, smiling to herself like it was some kind of an inside joke, “I knew it before I even fell for you, and it had won me over back then as well.”

“You’re enduring and forgiving – and _loyal_ – to a fault, but you’re so oblivious of it,” Natasha breathed, her eyes glazing over.

Maria couldn’t tear her eyes away from Natasha’s, and she could sense there was still some more that the redhead wanted to say. And Maria needed to hear it almost as badly as she didn’t want to. She gulped forcefully, almost nervous about what Natasha would say next, and the redhead gave her the warmest smile.

“And yet, it all falls woefully short when I see you,” Natasha said, pure devotion making her face glow, “When I see the way you look at _me._ ”

“I come alive under your electric gaze. The way it’s always searching for me,” the redhead said, her voice bold, like _she_ needed Maria to know this, “But when you hold me, I can’t even describe how relaxed I feel. Like nothing I do would ever hurt you.”

“You don’t worship me,” Natasha went on, her eyes having a faraway look, “But I feel like you’d walk through the gates of hell for me,” she said, her smile faltering, “In many ways, you already have.”

Maria opened her mouth to correct the redhead once again, but Natasha was still on a roll.

“You accept me for who I am and everything I’ve done, unconditionally,” the redhead said, her voice filled with awe, “And yet, you make me want to do better. To _be_ better.”

“I’m bound to you, Maria,” Natasha exhaled heavily, suddenly realising the weight of the conversation, “In every sense except for the literal one – although, that could also be arranged for,” she said, winking at Maria, despite the emotion in her voice.

“And yet,” the redhead paused, like it was taking all of her to say the next words, “You’ve set me free.”

It was a whispered confession, but it resonated so deeply within Maria, she could feel the vibrations in her bones.

Natasha was flashing her that breath-taking smile, the one whose brilliance outshone a thousand suns, “I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

And suddenly, Maria couldn’t bear it anymore.

“There isn’t a pla–”

“ _Stop_ ,” Maria croaked, swallowing to get rid of the lump in her throat, “You don’t have to tell me.”

And even though Natasha knew Maria hated PDA, she grabbed her into a fierce hug. And even though _Maria_ hated PDA, she tightened her arms around her girlfriend, smiling into her curls.

For all of her claims of being emotionally distant, Natasha had just soothed Maria’s crushing fear – of disappointing her, of being insufficient – in the most touching and heartfelt words. Maria blinked rapidly, hardly being able to reconcile the appreciation – the _open_ adoration – with herself.

She rubbed Natasha’s arm tenderly, hoping to convey just how thankful she was for everything the redhead had said.

“You really didn’t have to say all that,” Maria whispered eventually.

Natasha sighed, her breath warm on Maria’s neck, “I know.”

“I already knew how you felt about me.”

“I know.”

“It was a pretty phenomenal speech, by the way. Almost poetic.”

“I know.”

“I would tell you too – just how much you’ve changed my world – but I don’t want this to be some kind of a favour that I’m returning.”

“I know.”

Maria sagged into the hug as Natasha snuggled deeper, the redhead’s lips nipping her exposed collar bone reverently. She was overwhelmed by the sudden turn that their evening had taken, and she simply didn’t know how to deal with so many feelings all at once.

Maria placed a kiss in the shorter woman’s hair, and then brushed her lips over the redhead’s ear, “I’m going to whoop your ass on the dancefloor.”

“I kn–”

Natasha pulled out of the embrace to glare at her, and Maria kissed her before she could say a word. 

* * *

Maria clapped her hands lightly beside her head, her foot tapping on the beat of the peppy music as Natasha spun around her in a circle, her fingers on her dress delicately swishing the material in the air. The dancefloor was packed with couples, but they’re gazes barely left each other.

They danced like they’d been practicing for years; the redhead gliding around Maria with impossible grace as Maria deftly twirled her around. Unlike cheesy movies, they did stumble during some of the moves, but it hardly mattered. Their spontaneity and chemistry withstood it effortlessly.

They sensed the song nearing its end, and Maria held out her arm for Natasha. The redhead took her outstretched hand and rolled right into it, her back grazing Maria’s chest as she twirled, and Maria tipped her over, finishing their routine right on cue.

Maria held Natasha securely, one arm around the redhead’s waist, while Natasha gripped her other hand lightly, but firmly. They stayed in that position long after the music changed to a slower song, their chests heaving as they smiled at each other unflinchingly.

About an eternity later, Maria finally straightened up, relieving Natasha from her bent posture. She tried to pull away, but the tug on her arm stopped her.

Noticing that the redhead was still holding her hand, Maria smirked, “You planning to let go today, Romanoff?”

Natasha beamed back at her, her eyes iridescent even in the faint fairy lights around them, daring Maria to look away.

“You’re crazy, Hill,” the redhead whispered, her voice filled with affection and promise, “If you think I’m _ever_ letting you go.”


	35. One Last Time (Part 1)

_Many, many moons later…_

## The Archer

Clint sensed his wife approach and take her place beside him as they watched the familiar Chevrolet pull up in the driveway leading to their front porch.

As per their tradition, Natasha and Hill – _Maria,_ now _–_ had come over to their farmhouse for Christmas. If he was being honest, Clint had thought they’d bail this year. But there was the stubborn couple, exiting the car.

They looked like a picture of hell.

Maria was in her usual attire – jeans, a simple button-down shirt and a jacket – and it would have been just like every other time she’d visited them, but her right arm was wrapped in a sling, the shirt hiding the thick padding of bandages on her shoulder blade.

She got out of the driver’s seat, stretching herself as much as her wounded body allowed, and then walked over to the passenger’s seat – her steps slower and more careful than normal, Clint noticed – to get her girlfriend.

But Natasha declined her help and hopped out of the seat on her own. The redhead stabilised herself using the crutches, and Clint could see her fractured left leg encased in plaster that reached up high enough to get covered by the material of her dress.

Clint knew the wardrobe choice was to make it easy for her to wear the thing over the cast, but he was impressed at the Russian’s ability to bear the chill.

Maria watched the shorter woman carefully, her gaze darting between her girlfriend’s leg and the bandage across Natasha’s forehead, her bangs falling over to cover part of it. The taller woman once again reached forward to hold Natasha, but the redhead shot her a scathing glare, and Maria backed away.

Laura sighed beside him, and Clint shook his head. _Of course, the idiots are still fighting._

Maria shot the spy a look of her own before stepping away to get their bags from the back seats. Natasha’s gaze drilled into Maria’s back, and for a second, Clint thought she would tackle the taller woman.

Laura nudged his arm, “Go, help them.”

“They don’t need my help,” Clint replied, his eyes still fixed on the couple in front of him, “They’re fine, so long as they have each other.”

In his peripheral vision, he could see his own fond smile mirrored on Laura’s face. But his wife still huffed at him, “You’re just scared that they’d still be able to kick your ass if you try to offer.”

Clint turned his neck to face her, and laughed at the mirth in his wife’s eyes as she looked back at him. He was going to give her a fitting reply when a sound startled them, and their heads whipped back towards the women.

Clint saw it just as it happened, but he didn’t have time to react.

Maria had been holding the duffle bags in her left hand, Natasha flanking her injured side as they walked, when she accidentally stepped on a large stone. The sudden object in her way must have sent a jolt of pain through her, and the taller woman almost doubled over, the bags slipping from her hand.

Natasha saw it all happen and tried to rush to the brunette’s aid, but ended up stumbling herself, her arms flailing to prevent her fall as one of the crutches escaped her grasp. The next thing Clint knew, Maria had grabbed the redhead’s arm, holding her in place, and used the grip to straighten herself.

Both women held each other’s arms tightly, staring at each other like there was no one around them, and steadied themselves and their breathing.

And Clint would never know exactly who was supporting whom.

Laura sucked in a tensed breath beside him and he was suddenly spurred into motion. He jogged ahead to pick the fallen bags and beat a hasty retreat before either woman could notice.

Clint stopped only when he reached Laura, her eyes slightly misty as she observed the couple behind him.

“You’re right,” Laura whispered, not looking at him, “They’ll be fine.”

* * *

Clint shot Laura a quick side glance as he put the piece of steak into his mouth: _this is not working._

His wife chewed her own food purposely, raising her eyebrows at him discreetly: _give it some time._

They still didn’t know what the two women were fighting about (though Clint could guess), but they’d thought calling them out here would make them clear their crap, simply for the courtesy of being good guests. But he really shouldn’t have been surprised when the agents put up their splendid act.

Both, Natasha and Maria had been – were being – perfectly affable guests; their smiles warm and genuine, and their small-talk game top-notch. Almost as if neither had ever frowned in their lives. Their façade would fall only when they looked at each other, their expressions immediately morphing into ones of anger and hurt.

They were sitting right beside each other, on the opposite side of the dining table as Clint and Laura, but they couldn’t have been further apart.

Clint noticed how Natasha would skittishly observe Maria, and then guess what she might be needing and subtly move the things on the table to place them within her reach. He had to smile at the gesture, despite the semi-permanent scowl on the redhead’s face.

(Clint also watched as Natasha cut through her own food rather noisily, the cutlery hitting the plate repeatedly with a harsh clang.)

Maria, for her part, only looked mildly exasperated at the redhead’s antics, and kept sighing and shaking her head periodically.

As if pissed off at not getting the reaction she wanted, Natasha shovelled some salad down her mouth carelessly, and ended up choking on it. And Maria had already sprung into action, her good hand instantly reaching for her glass of water and bringing it close to the redhead’s lips.

Even amidst the coughs, Natasha levelled a glare at the brunette and haughtily snatched the glass from her. The moment her hand was freed, Maria placed her palm on the redhead’s back, rubbing soothing circles as Natasha drank the water.

Clint observed the taller woman the whole time. Her movements were calm and efficient, but her eyes were flashing with concern. And he once again had to marvel at Maria’s ability to stay so composed and _in control_ all the damned time.

The coughing soon ceased, and Natasha jerked the brunette’s hand off her back, her jaw clenching self-consciously. Maria merely blinked twice at the shorter woman and turned back to focus on her own food.

And just like that, Clint lost it.

“Okay, what the _hell_ are you both doing?” he all but growled.

Both women froze for just a millisecond before resuming their actions, ignoring him entirely. Clint felt like grabbing them and actually knocking their heads together. He would have, if they weren’t injured. But he stuck to glowering at Natasha, even though she wasn’t meeting his gaze, willing the woman to look up and face him.

“What is it, Clint?” the redhead finally bit out, glaring back at him.

Clint returned the look, “Your girlfriend _got_ _shot,_ Tasha,” he said emphatically, and saw Natasha screw her eyes shut, “And you’ve literally been giving her the cold shoulder.”

Clint glanced at Maria as he said the words. But the brunette simply continued eating, her gaze fixed on her plate and her expression indifferent. She looked like someone who had tried and exhausted every argument in a debate. Clint figured she probably had.

“I _know_ that, Clint,” Natasha whispered, opening her eyes, and Clint’s heart broke at the shattered look in them, “But she didn’t have to.”

“As a matter of fact, she _did_ have to.”

It wasn’t Clint _or_ Maria who had spoken, surprisingly. He turned his head towards the voice and found Laura’s gaze boring into Natasha.

And the events of the botched mission that had brought them here suddenly flashed before Clint’s eyes…

_From his vantage point across the building, Clint had a cross-sectional view of the room that Natasha was being held captive in._

_They’d kept the redhead bound to a pole and her hands were tied behind her. It would have hardly been a problem for the super spy, except for the fact that Natasha was barely conscious._

_Even from the distance, Clint could see the Russian’s leg twisted at a painful angle, and the blood gushing out of a wound on her temple. Natasha’s head kept lolling over as she struggled to stay awake. He also saw the gash on the redhead’s side – the one that was visible to him – and he cursed under his breath._

_There wasn’t anyone apart from her in the room, and Clint wondered just how long the extraction team would take to get to the redhead._

_Clint had his eyes fixed on the spy, his gaze occasionally darting around to check for incoming threats, when he saw the door of that room get thrown open. His arm on the arrow relaxed when he saw Hill walk in and scan the room for her girlfriend._

_Clint got a little too engrossed in observing the two women staring at each other, and he didn’t notice the sniper take his aim._

_The man was positioned on the parapet of a third building, facing a window of the room, and he had almost appeared from nowhere. His gun was pointed at Natasha, and from where the guy was placed, it would be a straight shot. Clean and fatal._

_“Hill! Sniper!” Clint managed to bark into his earpiece before tilting himself and letting the arrow fly._

_The arrow found its mark, impaling the sniper right in his chest, but Clint was still late by a hair._

_But Hill wasn’t._

_Clint heard the fired shot and turned his head apprehensively to look back at the room, and his breath caught at the sight._

_Hill was standing in front of Natasha, and by the looks of it, she seemed to be hugging the redhead. But Clint could see the faltering movements of her hands and he realised that she was cutting the ropes around Natasha’s wrists._

_He could also see the growing patch of blood on Hill’s back, where the bullet had gotten lodged in her shoulder blade._

_Clint watched in awe as the taller woman freed Natasha and then fell to her knees in front of her. Watched as the redhead ran her fingers through Hill’s hair, her other hand grasping the pole for support. Watched as the brunette looked up, took Natasha’s hand in hers, and then used the redhead’s arm to haul herself up._

_The sight was jarring, and Clint found himself jerked into action. He quickly stood up, spun around and started running towards the staircase on the terrace he was perched on. He hoped he would be quick enough to get out of the building and reach the evac point._

_He got to the bottom in less than a minute, and immediately began running towards the building where Hill and Natasha were in. He was about to enter when he saw the two women huddle out._

_Hill had her good arm wrapped around the redhead’s waist, somewhat helping her walk, while Natasha’s head whipped around to check for threats, Hill’s gun ready in her hand. Clint saw a small group of men approach them from behind, and he grabbed the arrows from his quiver to launch them._

_But he didn’t need to. Natasha managed to sense them and quickly spun herself around in Hill’s arm, firing shots back-to-back, her aim sure and fast. Clint was rather amazed at the duo as he saw the bodies drop dead behind them._

_As he jogged towards them, he could see the sheer pain on each woman’s face. It was pure grit – to get the other one out of there – that was driving them forward. Clint reached them and placed himself in between, wrapping one arm around each woman, and the three started stumbling out._

_They didn’t have to walk too far, thankfully. Barely half a minute of struggling later, a jeep skidded to a stop beside them. The door was thrown open to reveal another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent’s face, and Clint nodded gratefully at him as he quickly deposited both women into the back seats._

_The agent gave him 3 seconds to get into the passenger seat before racing out of there._

Clint had shared the story with his wife, and he realised now that maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea to do so. Because Laura was the best at talking sense into particularly stubborn people. His focus was brought back when Laura spoke again.

“She saved your life, Natasha,” she said quietly but firmly, “That bullet only wounded her, but it would have killed you.”

He knew that Natasha was aware of all of this, and saying it out loud was only causing the redhead more pain. But he still needed the woman to know how much worse things would have been.

Natasha made a strangled sound, her eyes flashing with rage and hurt, “I know that!”

For a moment, Clint thought the redhead would either yell or burst into tears. But Natasha only dropped her gaze, her shoulders sagging.

“ _I know that,_ ” the redhead repeated, her voice a defeated whisper, “Just how many more –”

The loud sound beside Natasha made her fall quiet.

Clint held his breath as Maria stood up forcefully, her chair scraping against the floor noisily as it was pushed behind, nearly tipping over because of the momentum. The brunette’s good hand was gripping the edge of the table tightly as she glowered down at Natasha, daring her to complete the sentence.

Maria eventually sighed, shaking her head frustratedly. She stalked off towards the spare room, where they always stayed in, and Clint saw Natasha lower her head in remorse. He reached for the redhead’s hand over the table and squeezed it reassuringly.

Clint looked over towards his wife, imploring her to help. She gave him a small smile before facing Natasha.

“She’s gone through this phase too, Natasha,” Laura said, her tone gentle.

“I’ve seen the same look on her face,” she said, once the redhead had looked up, “After every mission that you got injured on. When she sat by your side, waiting – _praying –_ for you to open your eyes.”

Clint saw Natasha’s chin tremble as she tried to suppress the tears, and his heart went out to the smaller woman.

Laura reached for the redhead’s other hand and tugged it gently, “But she didn’t punish herself the way you are.”

Natasha opened her mouth to say something, but Laura cut her off, “I know it might be different for you,” she said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully, “I’m not going to pretend I understand how or why.”

The redhead pursed her lips and let Laura continue, “But you need to know that your pain is hurting _her_ as well.”

 _Bullseye,_ Clint thought as he smiled to himself, because Laura’s words found their desired mark. It was a fitting compliment, considering that she was Hawkeye’s wife.

But Natasha’s eyes got misty all over again and Clint gave her hand another squeeze. Laura cleared her throat before speaking.

“So, Natasha Romanoff, I _beg_ you,” she said, though her voice was bold and authoritative, “Go and kiss your girlfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I'm not sure of the exact timeline for this chapter. Probably 1/1.5/2 year later...? Sorry, I'm a bit blur myself.


	36. One Last Time (Part 2)

## The Soldier

Maria was standing – waiting – by the window when she heard the familiar sound of crutches against wooden floor.

She listened to the soft click of the door, but she didn’t turn around to face Natasha and continued staring at the endless field visible from the window. For a full minute, neither of them spoke, and Maria finally let her anger rise, whirling around as purposefully as she could.

“I never thought you were keeping score all this while, Romanoff,” she snapped, her voice sharp and biting as she glared at the redhead standing a few paces away from the door.

Maria saw the broken expression on Natasha’s face, and she willed herself to tone down the snark, “But since you clearly are, how about you count the many, _many_ , ops that you returned from banged up almost beyond recognition.”

Maria was sure the redhead could hear her gnashing her teeth, “The ones that you went ahead and finished, _despite_ me telling you to get out. Simply because you didn’t want to disappoint me.”

Natasha wasn’t meeting her gaze and it pissed Maria off beyond anything, “You know what, I can’t do this anymore.”

Natasha’s head instantly whipped in her direction, a brief look of panic crossing her features, and Maria realised she had misunderstood her. But she was far too enraged to be gentle.

“If you think that this is some kind of a _pity_ _relationship_ going on here, then that’s your own damned problem!” Maria spat out, “I’m sick of telling you over and over again that it’s not your fault!”

The redhead shut her eyes, the clench of her jaw reflecting just how tormented she was, and Maria finally felt the fight leave her. She walked up to the shorter woman, her good hand automatically rising to stroke her girlfriend’s jaw.

Natasha flinched at the touch and opened her eyes to look up at Maria, anguish and grit swirling in her green orbs. And Maria’s thumb stilled against the redhead’s cheek, “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wasn’t saving you so much as I was saving _myself?_ ”

“I love you, Natasha,” Maria whispered, retracting her hand from Natasha’s face and balling it into a fist, “And it pains me that you’ve reduced everything between us to a bunch of favours we owed each other.”

She took a step back, and Natasha’s body jerked as if the distance was physically pushing her away. Maria let her fist drop beside her and turned away, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to say the next part if she kept looking at the redhead. She took a long breath, reaching deep within her for every ounce of her strength.

“But I would never want you to feel indebted to anyone,” Maria croaked, “Especially not to me.”

“So, you can do me one last favour, and walk out of this right now, if you want to,” she choked out, lowering her head.

From the corner of her eye, Maria saw Natasha’s head turning towards her, and she could almost feel the terror on the shorter woman’s face.

“Because I’ve clearly failed to show how happy you make me,” Maria breathed, “Failed to show you that I notice and appreciate everything _you_ do for me.”

And she _did_ appreciate it. So much.

Natasha had a knack for being able to know exactly what Maria wanted, and she’d wordlessly given it to her, every time. Maria recalled the hundreds of silent screams she had pressed into the redhead’s shoulder, whenever life threw crisis after crisis at them. And Natasha hadn’t just held her, she’d understood her and made her _smile_ , without needing a word of explanation.

And Maria couldn’t possibly count the number of times the redhead had saved her ass. Figuratively – by salvaging ops that had gone so unbelievably FUBAR, it was ridiculous to think they’d ever had a shot at them – and literally.

But words weren’t Maria’s forte, and she had never been able to express just how _complete_ her life had become, thanks to her amazing girlfriend. She realised now, that she should have tried.

“You aren’t what I need, Natasha,” Maria said softly, finally facing the redhead, “You’re what I _want._ ”

Maria’s eyes softened at the despondent expression on Natasha’s face, “I’m with you because I want to be. Not because I’m helpless. And neither because I’m some kind of a selfless messiah.”

Maria shut her eyes and shook her head, unable to bear the way Natasha was looking at her.

“I just wish you would have _known_ ,” Maria said, her voice cracking, “Known how much I –”

A pair of warm lips covered her own and Maria’s eyes flashed open, her good hand automatically wrapping itself around Natasha’s waist, stabilising them as they kissed each other desperately. _Finally._

She noticed how the redhead had abandoned her crutches and was pulling her face closer with both her hands. Like she trusted Maria to hold her and not let her fall. The thought was incredibly calming, and Maria found herself deepening the kiss.

“I _do_ know,” Natasha hummed against her lips, “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t.”

Maria only shook her head lightly and captured the redhead’s lips again, and Natasha let out a soft whimper before kissing her back. They pulled apart to breath after a while, but Maria saw that the redhead still had a sad look on her face.

Natasha held onto her good shoulder, using her for support before looking up, “I also know that you weren’t doing me any favours. And neither was I.”

“Then why are you this upset?” Maria asked, “We’ve gotten hurt so many times before.”

Natasha nodded weakly and her eyes glazed over. She blinked rapidly, like she was trying to gather herself, and ducked her head.

“Yeah, I know,” the redhead said, her voice small, “It’s just that the way it happened this time… the look on your face when you…”

Maria hooked a finger under the redhead’s chin and gently tipped her head upward to meet her gaze. _Tell me what’s hurting you so much._

Natasha let out a shaky sigh, her glassy, haunted orbs making Maria’s heart stop, “It was one of my worst nightmares come true.” 

## The Widow

“It was one of my worst nightmares come true.”

Natasha remembered the events far too well; the memory seared in her brain forever.

She remembered the relief that had filled her when Maria had hugged her. And then, the sheer horror _,_ just a second later, when she had _felt –_ more than heard or seen – the bullet pierce the taller woman.

Not a sound had escaped Maria’s lips as the bone shattered upon impact, but her whole body had jerked violently by the force of the projectile.

Natasha shivered involuntarily, recalling the tremors that had coursed through her own body.

But the brunette had simply continued with her task, carefully cutting the ropes around Natasha’s wrists, not letting the blade touch her skin even as her own hands trembled. Natasha remembered the pained “Dammit,” that Maria had muttered when her knees had buckled…

And all of that had replayed every night since that day, when Natasha slept. Except, in her dream, instead of managing to kill all those incoming assailants as she struggled to get Maria out of there, Natasha had just watched as the brunette bled out in front of her.

Natasha blinked rapidly to get rid of the images.

She looked back at Maria. _You could have died. Because of me._

The blood almost instantly drained from the taller woman’s face. Natasha tried to give Maria a reassuring smile, but it must have come out as a grimace. Because the brunette tugged her closer and took her into a gentle hug.

And Natasha could guess why Maria was feeling so guilty. She’d been pushing the brunette away – barely even speaking to her – ever since they’d gotten home from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s infirmary. And eventually, Maria had given up on her and taken to sleeping on the couch for past few days.

So, she hadn’t been there when Natasha had woken up in the bed – alone – every one of those nights, gasping for air, her body covered in sweat and her pulse thundering in her ears.

Natasha remembered stumbling out of the bedroom and collapsing beside the couch. She had gazed at Maria unblinkingly, her shaking fingers reaching out to check whether the brunette was breathing. The woman was a light sleeper, but the pain meds she was on would almost knock her out, and she hadn’t noticed Natasha’s presence on any of those nights. 

Desperate for the physical contact now, Natasha slowly wrapped her arms around Maria, mindful of her wound, and accepted the unsaid – and completely unnecessary – apology.

The brunette ran a soft hand down the column of her spine, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

It wasn’t that Natasha needed someone to comfort her after a nightmare. She had and she _could_ deal with them on her own, and she knew that Maria knew this. It was just exponentially easier when the brunette was with her.

Natasha nuzzled her nose into the crook of Maria’s neck, “How could you even know, you’ve never asked me about my dreams.”

She pulled back just a bit to look at the taller woman’s face, “I would have told you,” Natasha whispered, “I don’t feel the need to hide anything from you. Even my worst fears.”

Maria snorted at that, “ _Fears?_ Please, you have just one fear,” she scoffed playfully, “That I’ll beat your shooting records and you’ll have to watch that 2-hour documentary on America’s space race.”

Natasha laughed, but it sounded strangled, and the brunette’s eyes softened.

“I know that you would have told me if I asked,” Maria said, her voice small, “And it wasn’t that I didn’t care.”

The brunette gave her a sad smile, her blue orbs radiating warmth, and Natasha felt like she was drowning in their endless depths.

“But I don’t need the exact details to know just how bad your dreams are,” Maria said, “And I know how _real_ they can feel, especially when they’re actually memories.”

Natasha found herself nodding and resting her head back on the taller woman’s shoulder. Maria once again draped an arm around her waist, holding her securely.

“But this is our job, Nat,” the brunette breathed.

Natasha sighed in bliss at the sound of her nickname. It felt like ages since she’d last heard it.

She felt the taller woman’s breath ruffle her bangs as she spoke, “ _Please_ , you can’t keep doing this to yourself – and to me – every time one of us gets hurt.”

Natasha tilted her head up and Maria met her halfway as they kissed, closing her eyes as her body relaxed, the familiar feeling of peace that she got every time the brunette held her coursing through her yet again.

“I love you,” Maria hummed against her lips, “And I know I don’t say it nearly enough, but you belong with me,” she whispered, pulling back, her gaze locking with Natasha’s, “I’ll do everything it takes to keep you by my side.”

The brunette shifted Natasha’s bangs away, “And I know you would do the same for me,” she said, her thumb sliding down to rest on Natasha’s jaw, “You already have, so many times.”

Natasha covered the taller woman’s hand with her own, “But you were ready to let me go, just a few minutes ago.”

Maria immediately screwed her eyes shut, guilt instantly rippling across her features, and Natasha placed a kiss into the brunette’s palm, “I know. You didn’t want to make me feel trapped.”

She ran a finger over Maria’s brow, making her open her eyes. The intensity in the brunette’s sapphires made Natasha want to look away, but she kept her gaze locked with Maria’s.

“And I don’t, Maria,” Natasha said, her voice soft, “I’ve told you before, I’m the closest I could ever be to being free – and at peace – when I’m with you.”

“And you’re that for me too, Nat. You have to believe me when I say that,” Maria said instantly, “I’m broken, but every day that I get to spend with you, I feel more and more _complete_.”

“I do,” Natasha replied, beaming at her girlfriend, “I believe you.”

Maria shot her a relieved smile and ducked her head to cover Natasha’s lips. They’d kissed a billion times before, and yet, Natasha couldn’t help but marvel at how each time felt new. It was thrilling and calming in a way that was beyond her grasp.

A soft sound from the back of her throat made Maria deepen the kiss, and Natasha altogether gave up figuring it out.

A thought suddenly struck Natasha, and she found herself giggling against Maria’s lips. The brunette pulled back, her forehead knitting in confusion, and Natasha smirked at her.

“Maria Hill, did you just quote a Taylor Swift song to me?” she teased.

She placed her tongue firmly in her cheek, fully prepared to curb the bubble of laughter when the taller woman would get all flustered and embarrassed. 

“Not my fault, Romanoff,” Maria replied coolly, a smug grin on her lips, “ _You’re_ the one who played that channel on the radio – at a blasting volume, might I add – when we drove here.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed, “And you let me.”

“Just once, Nat,” the brunette said, shaking her head fondly, “Just once I’d like to know what it feels like to actually win against you.”

Natasha’s smirk instantly softened, and her hands snaked to Maria’s shoulders, fisting her collar.

“But can’t you see,” Natasha whispered, tugging the brunette forward, “‘ _That what you're looking for has been here the whole time._ ’”

Natasha expected a cocky smile from the taller woman at finally having gotten her victory, but Maria only bent her head and kissed her. Natasha cupped her hand behind the brunette’s head, pulling her closer, her fingers lightly caressing the nape of Maria’ neck.

 _What ever has my life become,_ she thought as their lips kept moving together, _I’m the goddamn Black Widow, and I’m quoting teenage love ballads._

Maria pulled apart right then, her face flush and her eyes brimming with love, and Natasha just had to smile back at her girlfriend.

Because she knew that she wouldn’t have it any other way.


	37. In Sickness…

## The Soldier

“Let me do that.”

Maria’s arm fell limp beside her as she heard Natasha. She lifted it once again, grateful that the redhead couldn’t see her grimace, “I can do it.”

Maria had let Natasha change the dressing earlier that morning, just like she had even on the days that they hadn’t been talking. But she most certainly did _not_ need her help to wear a shirt. Her body was screaming otherwise, the strain of the previous day manifesting in the form of a continuous throb in her shoulder.

Maria’s arm trembled at the effort as she tried to get it into the damned shirt. She heard Natasha hobble towards her, and the redhead appeared in front of her just as her arm once again flopped down. But Natasha caught it mid-air, her grip soft and steady.

The redhead lifted Maria’s arm slowly, her eyebrows knitting together when she noticed it was shaking, but Maria tried to pull it out of her hold, “I can do it.”

Natasha looked up and shot her a glare so deadly, Maria had to physically stop herself from cowering. The redhead completed the task, carefully pulling the flannel shirt over both of Maria’s arms, and then started doing the buttons.

The withering look had lasted all but 3 seconds, and Maria noticed the concerned expression that her girlfriend’s face was now sporting. And she marvelled – for the nth time in her life – at how the same woman could be so dangerous and gentle at the same time.

_It’s the reason she’s such an exceptional spy…_

“Why do you do this, Maria?” Natasha sighed as she finished the last button, bringing back Maria’s focus.

Maria raised an eyebrow, “Do what?”

“Hide your pain,” the redhead answered, her voice small.

Maria smiled wistfully, “It’s the same reason why _you_ do it,” she replied, “ _Are doing it_ ,” she added, looking pointedly at the redhead’s leg.

“And I’m not _hiding_ anything,” Maria protested, “I’m just not used to needing so much help.”

Natasha nodded, knowing that it was her trait as well. She raised her hands to straighten the collar of Maria’s shirt and rested them there, “I was barely conscious when you found me.”

Natasha’s eyes were fixed on the sliver of bandages peeking around Maria’s neck. And Maria knew that the redhead was referring to their recent op.

“But I remember what you said to me,” Natasha whispered, “Right before the bullet hit you.”

Maria remembered it too, but she didn’t open her mouth, not knowing where the redhead was going with this.

Natasha took a deep breath and finally looked up into Maria’s eyes, “‘ _Hey there, hot stuff._ ’”

The redhead let out a dry laugh, “Like _that’s_ the most important thing you could’ve said, even though you knew you were going to get shot.”

Maria smiled back at the shorter woman. The phrase had become somewhat of a thing between them, for no particular reason. Or maybe it was because it had seen every facet of their relationship. Maria raised her good hand to brush the redhead’s bangs away from the wound on her temple.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference if I’d said something more profound,” she murmured, “You already know everything that matters.”

Natasha nodded fondly and Maria bent down to kiss her. The redhead was just about to deepen it when they heard a knock on the door, and it was opened a second later.

“Sorry for barging in, I just wanted to see if you guys were –”

Laura stopped mid-rant as she saw them spring apart. Natasha still stood close to Maria, but her hands were no longer on Maria’s collar. Laura observed them intently – Maria trying to not squirm consciously while Natasha attempted to hide her grin at Maria’s expression.

Shooting the redhead a weak glare, Maria looked back at Laura, and she found the woman beaming back at them.

“You guys look cosy,” Laura grinned.

“ _Very,”_ Natasha quipped cheekily, and Laura laughed at that.

“I just wanted to check whether you two needed any help,” Laura said, still smiling, “But doesn’t seem like you do.”

The woman wheeled around to leave the room, poking her head one last time before closing the door, “Just holler if you need anything!”

Maria turned back to face Natasha and saw a tiny smile tugging on the woman’s lips as she looked down. She nudged the redhead’s arm, “Hey, what are you smiling about?”

Natasha lifted her eyes to meet Maria’s gaze, “Nothing much,” she said, outright grinning, “I would _pay_ to actually hear you _holler_.”

## The Widow

Natasha and Laura were sitting on the stairs at the front porch, each leaning against the railing on either side, when they heard footsteps approach them from inside the house.

“Hey, babe,” Clint hummed, stooping down to peck his wife’s lips, “We’re going to go for a short walk,” he said just as Maria walked up beside him, “Dinner was quite heavy. Shouldn’t have had that third helping of dessert.”

Natasha scoffed at that, hardly buying the excuse (she’d once told Clint that of the seven deadly sins, gluttony is what would make him go to hell). She tilted herself to glance at Maria, shooting her an incredulous look. But the taller woman only shook her head and smiled casually.

Natasha grinned back as an idea struck her. She took a quick look towards the couple beside her, making sure they weren’t looking, and then pouted her lips suggestively at Maria. She wiggled her eyebrows in challenge as she saw the brunette try to maintain a straight face.

She was about to up the inappropriate-gestures-ante, when Maria’s expression suddenly hardened.

“Dammit, Natasha,” she snapped, “I’ve told you to keep the crutches near you. You just never listen to me, do you?”

Sensing that there was going to be a fight, Clint and Laura got busy whispering among themselves, their eyes darting everywhere but towards them, giving them some semblance of privacy.

Natasha simply watched as the brunette walked down the stairs and picked up the crutches that were carelessly strewn on the snow-covered grass. Maria came back up to where Natasha was sitting, haughtily dropping the crutches on the step right behind her, within Natasha’s reach, before crouching to bring herself to Natasha’s level.

“Why do you keep provoking me?” Maria growled, her voice low and strict, and Natasha could only gawk in confusion.

The brunette glared at her for just a second before her eyes softened, and she quickly leaned forward, stealing a kiss from a completely unsuspecting Natasha.

Maria pulled back before either Clint or Laura could realise what had happened and winked at her. Natasha felt her ears heating up at the clever manoeuvre. It wasn’t the kiss that got her flustered, it was the fact that she totally hadn’t seen it coming. _So much for being the best spy out there._

Maria stood up, the fake scowl back on her face, “You can’t always have your way, Romanoff.”

And Natasha just had to smile at the endearing irony of the words.

Clint cleared his throat, adding his two bits to take down the tension, “We should, uh, get going,” he said looking at Maria warily, “It’s already late.”

Maria nodded stiffly at him and gave Natasha a quick smirk before the two walked off. Natasha shook her head lovingly as she watched their silhouettes disappear in the darkness.

Seeing Laura eyeing her quizzically, Natasha promptly smothered her smile, but the woman caught on it.

“Uh, your girlfriend just low-key yelled at you,” Laura pointed out, “So why’re you grinning like a lovesick teenager?”

“Nothing,” Natasha scoffed lightly, failing to keep the affection out of her voice, “Just… nothing.”

Laura shrugged noncommittally, “You guys are just as weird as you’re cute,” she said, making Natasha grin.

“So,” Laura began after a bit, “Last night was intense.”

“Yeah,” Natasha said, her gaze dropping, “I, uh… I didn’t handle it all too well.”

A small laugh from the woman made Natasha look up again, and she saw that Laura had a thoughtful expression on her face. The woman smiled to herself, “Clint told me about this mission, many months ago, when you got shot at?”

 _Which one,_ Natasha was going to ask, because there were just so many. But Laura was already opening her mouth to clarify.

“The one where you fell off the 3rd storey,” she said, “And were in a coma for a week.”

 _Ah,_ Natasha thought, stifling her grimace, _that one was a bitch._

Her suit had blocked the bullet, so she hadn’t actually gotten shot (brownie points to her for that), but the forced had tipped her off the edge of the building and she had crashed right on top of a car. She’d ended up breaking so many bones, the physiotherapy after being discharged had been an absolute nightmare.

She remembered that one night when Maria had found her collapsed on the floor of her quarters, the sheer pain and fatigue rendering her almost immobile. Natasha could never forget the ashen look on her girlfriend’s face as she had lifted her and placed her on the bed, concern and helplessness etched across her features.

Natasha sighed to herself; she’d been the cause of that haggard expression way too many times. But she gathered herself and looked back at Laura.

“Yeah,” Natasha answered, shrugging nonchalantly, “The paperwork had been more of a pain in the ass than all the fractures.”

Natasha expected a chuckle at that, but Laura laughed outright, and Natasha couldn’t figure out what was so funny.

“Clint had called me over,” Laura began, once she’d calmed herself, “To, kind of, watch over Maria, I guess,” she said, “To check if she was ‘handling’ it. And she was, but just barely.”

“She was either at the gym or beside your bed,” Laura went on, smiling at the memory, “Her expression used to be so tensed, I couldn’t dare to ask her if she was okay. And I didn’t need to; I could see she wasn’t.”

“But she was still composed, weirdly enough,” Laura added, raising her eyebrows in genuine question, “She never snapped or yelled at anyone, even though she looked like she wanted to. All the time.”

Natasha found herself nodding at that. It was very characteristic of her girlfriend to never give away her emotions.

Laura waited for Natasha to come out of her thoughts before continuing, “And when I finally asked her how she was doing, you won’t believe what she said.”

Natasha seriously doubted that, but let the woman speak, _“‘Admin’s going to flip over when they find out that the Black Widow thrashed the President’s Cadillac.’”_

Laura joined Natasha as she laughed, both shaking their heads in fondness.

“I think I’m finally starting to believe Clint,” Laura said after a bit, “You two are just like each other.”

“Which is so strange, really,” Laura added almost immediately, “Because you are also so different, at the same time.”

Laura had her wise-old-professor look on, which meant that she was going to drop some precious pearls of knowledge. And Natasha simply relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, ready to catch them.

“From all the stories Clint tells me,” Laura started, “I can make out that you’re the tamer of chaos.”

Natasha gave her a little laugh, and Laura continued, “You let stuff spiral, but you don’t get fazed by it and turn things around somehow, _anyhow,_ ” she said, “Like Maria once said: you’re unbreakable.”

Almost reflexively, Natasha sucked in an audible breath. Laura’s eyes had that same conviction she’d seen in Maria’s orbs. The one that made her want to believe.

Laura smiled warmly, “But Maria, on the other hand,” she said, shaking her head, “She never lets go of the reins. She’s always in control. She doesn’t _let_ things fall apart, despite the raging disorder around her.”

Laura reached out with her hand and placed it on Natasha’s arm, her grip grounding.

“You’re unbreakable, Natasha,” she repeated emphatically, “And she’s relentless.”

Laura squeezed her arm gently, “It’s hard to beat that combination.”

Natasha found herself staring at the woman, the words quickly sinking into her mind. _Fire and water,_ Clint had once said to her, but she hadn’t given it too much thought. But she suddenly got it now. And she got what Maria had said to her the earlier night.

They didn’t _need_ each other. Sure, they helped each other with their vulnerabilities in ways that no one else probably could. But they didn’t do it out of any kind of compulsion. They _were_ fire and water; perfectly independent individuals, with their strengths and their flaws and their _demons_. And yet, when they came together, they somehow made it work, defying all logic.

They’d been through so much over the years. Battles, missions, near-deaths. She was an Avenger now, and Maria was Commander Hill, Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. But they were still together, and Natasha would always be hers, regardless of what their future had in store for them.

No matter where she would go – would _have_ to go – she would always come back to Maria, if that was possible in some way. Because Natasha was hers.

It was hardly a tangible thing, but Natasha could still feel it stronger than anything. That invisible cord that kept her tethered to Maria. The one that she couldn’t possibly feel chained by. The one that had become a part of her.

Natasha doubted if she could ever love anyone else the way she loved Maria. She doubted if Maria could. And, really, the answer was right there. And for once, Natasha didn’t feel afraid of accepting it.

“Well, why would even try any other one?” Natasha said, smiling at Laura, “I’ve already hit the jackpot on my first go.”


	38. … and in Health

## The Widow

Natasha and Laura had slid onto lighter topics when they finally saw Clint and Maria reappear from the gate.

Natasha had the insane urge to run towards the brunette and kiss her senseless, but the ache in her leg – and the soreness in her whole body, really – reminded her what a disastrous idea that would be. And she waited patiently for the two to reach them.

Maria came up to them and lowered herself onto the step below Laura, resting against the railing on the opposite side as Natasha, while Clint sat down next to Natasha, facing his wife.

“So,” Clint said after a bit, lightly clapping his hands together, “Want to take a gander at the Christmas gifts?”

Natasha rolled her eyes at the childish tradition that the archer had somehow gotten them to follow, but Laura’s face instantly lit up. She was about to agree to Clint’s suggestion, when Maria huffed.

“I already know what Natasha’s got me,” the brunette said, a sly smile on her lips.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend: _do you, now._

Maria smirked back, “I’m not out in the field as much as you are, but I’m still a spy, you know.”

“What is it?!” Clint asked exasperatedly, his eagerness almost juvenile.

Maria’s eyes flickered with excitement, “She’s got me a Ducati.”

The brunette had guessed correctly, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at her. _Touché, Hill._

“Damn, Tasha. A bike?” Clint whooped, “That’s pretty big for a Christmas gift.”

Natasha waved her hand dismissively, her mind already formulating a way to beat the brunette at their little game.

“Yeah, well, I already had one, but Maria hates riding behind me,” she said, a devilish grin splitting across her face, “She prefers to be on top or at the bottom.”

Natasha watched smugly as the brunette’s elbow nearly slipped from where it was resting on the step. Her smile soon morphed into a full-blown laugh, making Clint and Laura join her, while Maria simply grumbled and glared at Natasha.

“Well, you guys might have ruined the surprise for each other,” Clint said once he stopped laughing, “But _we_ haven’t.”

Laura grinned at her husband before taking Clint’s hand, and the happy couple scampered into their house. Maria’s gaze tracked them as they went in, and then she grabbed the railing to haul herself up.

But Natasha touched her arm to stop her, “Stay?”

Maria looked at her for a second before smiling, “Of course.”

Natasha so badly wanted to ask her how she’d found out about the motorbike. But then, it didn’t matter too much. Maria clearly liked it. (And Natasha would do her investigation later, privately). She simply leaned back, following Maria’s movements as she made herself comfortable.

“So, what did you get me?” Natasha asked instead.

Maria’s smile instantly faltered, “I, uh, I didn’t get you anything this year,” she said, “I’m sorry, I got busy and I totally forgot.”

She looked so endearingly guilty, Natasha almost wanted to laugh. But she only blinked reassuringly, giving Maria a genuine smile.

“It’s okay,” Natasha said, “Unlike Robin Hood in there, I’m not going to get mad at you for not keeping up a silly tradition for valid reasons.”

Maria chuckled at that and then her gaze dropped to her lap, “I do have something that could count as a gift, though.”

Natasha’s senses were immediately on alert. The brunette’s voice was impossibly small – almost coy, if Natasha didn’t know any better – and she couldn’t fathom what had made Maria suddenly so nervous.

She nudged the taller woman’s leg with her own, “Maria?”

The brunette looked up to meet her gaze, her eyes soft and sparkling, and Natasha felt her insides flutter with delight.

“You remember _that_ mission, from years ago?” Maria said, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips, “The one where you came to save me?”

Of course, Natasha remembered it. She’d been on far more daunting ops ever since, but that one stuck with her. It was the mission that had brought them together, in some ways. Natasha nodded lightly and the brunette’s smile widened.

“You told me never to kneel in front of anyone,” Maria said, her eyes locked with Natasha’s, “But I’m hoping you’ll excuse me this one time.”

And before Natasha could fully wrap her mind around the words, Maria stood up and came over to Natasha’s side, standing right in front of her. The brunette’s gaze was still fixed on Natasha’s face as she lowered herself by one step, her good hand reaching inside her coat pocket.

And Natasha’s breath caught as Maria got down on one knee, producing a small velvet box in her hand, “Marry me?”

“You’re everything I have,” Maria said, her voice bold and clear, “And I’m pretty sure I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I know we don’t have to get married to _be_ together,” the brunette added quickly, “And I wouldn’t mind living that way, even if you say no.”

And right then, Natasha fell in love with the woman all over again. Maria had always left the ball in Natasha’s court, letting her set the pace as per her own comfort. And the brunette was doing that now as well. Giving Natasha the choice, not an ultimatum.

But Maria had no idea just how much control _she_ had over Natasha. Natasha was sure she would do just about anything for the brunette.

Maria’s smile grew wistful as she went on, “I just wanted this one part of my life to be _normal._ Conventional. Amidst all the craziness of our lives otherwise.”

“I want to be yours,” the brunette whispered, “In every way possible.”

“So, Natasha Romanoff,” Maria breathed, opening the box in her hand to reveal the ring, “Be my wife?”

But Natasha didn’t bother looking at the piece of jewellery. It couldn’t possibly be more dazzling than her girlfriend’s sapphires.

And even though she desperately wanted to say something smart, Natasha couldn’t get herself to come up with a single quip.

“You sure you’ve weighed all your options before asking?” she said eventually, willing her voice to stay steady, “There would be no takebacks, if we do this.”

Maria smiled back fondly, “I’m sure, Nat. I don’t have any backup plans, when it comes to you,” she said, her eyes glazing over just a bit, “And I would understand if you need some time to think about it. I kind of sprung this on you, and you prob–”

“ _Yes.”_

Maria stopped talking immediately, her lips still parted as she gawked at Natasha.

She had that familiar look of disbelief on her face. Natasha had seen it many times over the years. After their mission in Russia, when she had gone to the brunette’s office. When she’d first told the woman that she loved her. When she had kissed her for the first time. And when she had rescued Maria, during _that_ mission.

Natasha hated the look almost as much as she loved it.

Maria blinked rapidly, her mouth opening and closing before she could finally find her voice, “Yes?”

Natasha reached out with her hand, rubbing her knuckles over the brunette’s cheek in veneration, “Yes.”

And she immediately leaned forward to kiss Maria, eager to get that expression off the woman’s face. What even made her think that Natasha would ever say no?

They kissed for a while before Maria seemed to realise that the ring was still with her. She pulled apart to pluck the ring out of the box, her fingers trembling just a bit as she slid it onto Natasha’ finger.

And Natasha’s heart once again stopped at the sight of the gorgeous ring.

It was a thin platinum band; simple enough, save for the small, horizontal hourglass shape in the centre, two diamonds filling the triangles. The Black Widow’s insignia.

_Damn._

It was subtle and modest in every sense, but it still stood out. And it looked so different – and unexpectedly beautiful – in white.

“You’re obsessed with this symbol,” Natasha whispered, running a thumb over the ring fondly.

Maria laughed softly, “Believe it or not, I had briefly contemplated getting it made in black gold,” she said, “But you’re hardly the same person you were when I first met the Black Widow, it was only fair to show that change.”

The brunette suddenly gripped Natasha’s hand, “But I don’t want _you_ to change,” she said, “I don’t expect anything new from you. Marriage wouldn’t make things any different between us. I’d just be able to call you my wife, instead of my girlfriend.”

Utterly moved by everything Maria had said until now, Natasha covered the woman’s hand with her own, “I know, Maria,” she said, smiling gently, “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get why you want to do this.”

Maria’s features instantly relaxed, and Natasha bent forward once again to kiss the brunette.

“I would _love_ to be called your wife,” she breathed, and Maria smiled against her lips.

Natasha kept kissing the brunette, her hands reaching for her girlfriend’s – her _fiancée’s_ – collar and tugging at it so that she came up and sat beside her.

They broke apart only because they needed to breathe. Natasha beamed at the taller woman, hardly believing her stars at having found her. 

She cleared her throat discreetly, “I owe Clint 50 bucks, because of you.”

Maria quirked up an eyebrow, and Natasha continued, “A few years ago, right before the whole Shostakov op, when I’d guessed that you and Fury were up to something,” she explained, “Clint had thought you were going to propose.”

“The idiot hadn’t known that back then, you weren’t even my girlfriend,” Natasha said, chuckling, “He then changed the bet that you would _eventually_ propose.”

“Ah, that’s why you’d blushed like that,” Maria hummed, the memory coming back to her, “And that’s why Barton’s been grinning like a damned Cheshire cat ever since I showed him the ring.”

“I knew you guys weren’t just ‘going for a short walk,’” Natasha said, making Maria shrug sheepishly.

“Why’d you do it today, of all the days?” Natasha asked after a bit, “You’ve had the ring for 3 months now.”

It was true. She’d found the box, even though the brunette had hidden it rather well. And, much to her own amazement, Natasha had only been astonished – not scared – at the thought of Maria proposing. She _hadn’t_ run for the hills. Or maybe, she had. Run for the Hill.

The thought was amusing, and Natasha smiled to herself as she caressed the ring on her finger. She hadn’t seen it until now. All the while, there had been several occasions when she’d had to curb the urge to open the box and take a peek. But she hadn’t given in to the temptation, not wanting to ruin the brunette’s surprise.

And it was so worth it. Because everything about the way Maria had proposed right now – from the place, the circumstances leading up to it, down to the ring, itself – had caught her off guard.

Natasha saw Maria’s shocked expression, and smirked back at her, “You might be a spy, but I’m the Black Widow.”

Maria chuckled at that, shaking her head fondly, and Natasha flashed her a cheeky smile.

“So, tell me,” she said, “What took you so long?”

Maria sighed, her eyes dropping to Natasha’s hand, the one with the ring.

“I wasn’t too sure about asking you,” the brunette began, her voice small, “I didn’t want you to feel like I was doing this because I wanted _more_ from you.”

Maria took Natasha’s hand, her thumb ghosting over the ring, the edges of her eyes crinkling as she smiled to herself.

“But last night, you told me that you don’t feel caged,” Maria said, finally looking up to meet Natasha’s gaze, “And I thought maybe – just, _maybe_ – you would want this too.”

“I do,” Natasha said the words instantly and obliviously.

And Maria gave her the most delicate smile, the transcendent joy rippling across her face in brazen waves. The brunette’s loving gaze almost burned Natasha, and she dropped her eyes. But they fell right onto her hand and she found herself smiling for the millionth time that night.

“It’s a beautiful ring,” Natasha said, admiring the band yet again, “But, uh, I might not wear it all the time. I don’t want it to get lost, or something… and I don’t want people to know…”

Didn’t want people to know that she was engaged. Or married. Because in their line of work, such details could be easily exploited. And Natasha simply couldn’t lose Maria. Not like this.

She finally looked up to face the brunette, bracing herself for Maria’s disappointment. But the woman was just smiling warmly at her.

“I know, Nat. I understand,” she said, “I don’t even wish for you to flaunt that around. I’m okay as long as you like it.”

_Of course, you get it._

“I _love_ it,” Natasha said, smiling at the brunette, “I love _you._ ”

Maria grinned at her, “So, what do you say, a June wedding?”

Natasha bit her lip, stopping herself from agreeing with a childish squeal, and cocked up an eyebrow instead, “Think you can wait that long?”

Maria leaned back just a bit, and Natasha was suddenly reminded of that night, years ago, when she had gone to the brunette’s house for the first time. When she’d gathered the courage to listen to her heart and take that first step, which ultimately got them here.

Her fiancée gave her a tender smile, almost as if she’d read Natasha’s thoughts.

“I’m sure you must have understood by now,” Maria whispered, her voice silken soft, “That I’m a very patient woman.”

## The Soldier

Maria put their bags in the back of their car and then returned to wait by the door of the driver’s seat.

They’d stayed with the Bartons for a few days before Fury had called them and asked (ordered) them to get their asses back. Clint had been given a few extra days, for some reason (she’d have to ask Fury about that).

 _So much for being on medical leave,_ Maria scoffed internally as she observed the scene in front of her.

Clint stood beside his wife as she hugged Natasha, whispering something into the redhead’s ear that made her laugh. The couple then walked over to Maria and Laura gently wrapped her arms around her.

“Congratulations,” Laura said, still hugging her, “And, please, don’t go and get married secretly. It’s my only chance at seeing Natasha in a pretty white dress.”

Maria chuckled rather breathlessly, blushing at the thought of Natasha in a wedding gown, “Even if we do, I don’t think we’ll be able to stop you from coming.”

Laura pulled back, grinning at her, and let her husband take her place. Clint’s grip was firm as he hugged her.

“I know I don’t really need to say this,” he said, “But I have an arrow reserved just for you, if you ever hurt her.”

Maria actually laughed at that, her gaze flitting to Natasha as she hobbled towards the car.

“I think I’d die by the Widow’s bite before you’d even find me, if it comes to that,” Maria said, “But good to know that Natasha has someone watching out for her.”

Clint let her go, smiling gingerly as he pulled back, just as Natasha reached them.

“Is he playing Brother Bear again?” the redhead asked, narrowing her eyes at the archer.

“A little bit,” Maria replied, smirking at Clint’s sheepish expression.

“The shovel talk isn’t necessary, Barton,” Natasha said, turning to look at Maria, “She knows the web she’s getting herself into.”

With that, Natasha wheeled around and walked away to the passenger’s seat, while Maria nodded at the couple one last time. She turned around and saw the redhead holding the door precariously with one hand while the other grabbed the handle beside the seat, prepared to haul herself into the car.

Maria briskly walked over to her side, “Stop,” she commanded, “Let me help you.”

Natasha scoffed, not even looking at her as she concentrated on making the jump, “I can do it.”

Maria would have chuckled at the role-reversal, but she was far too concerned.

“Nat, you have a goddamn _rod_ in your leg,” she said emphatically, “Please, let me help you.”

_And, let’s not forget, the multitude of stitches along your waist that you’re hardly ever careful about. And the many, many cuts and bruises that you haven’t even bothered to patch up._

Natasha shot Maria a glare before her gaze dropped to her shoulder. She looked at it for a while, like she could see Maria’s wound right through the jacket and the shirt and the muscle. The redhead eventually looked up, and Maria stared right back at her: _I might be the one who’s gotten shot, but you’re not any less hurt._

Natasha sighed finally, “Fine, but could you keep these inside first?” she said, passing over the crutches.

Maria took them and moved towards the back seat to do her bidding, and before she could even realise it, Natasha had hopped and gotten herself into the car.

Maria was by her door in a flash, fully prepared to yell at her. But the redhead was staring ahead, her expression a perfect poker face, and Maria fell quiet. That was the look Natasha would don when she was trying to cover up her pain. Maria had seen it far too many times by now.

She hung her head, shaking it helplessly, and walked over to the other side of the car. She got into her own seat, adjusting her position before rolling down the window to bid the Bartons farewell.

Clint came forward and rested his elbows on the ridge, looking over at Natasha. He saw the redhead examining her own nails, appearing supremely bored, and he shifted his gaze back to Maria, “You could have just asked _me,_ you know.”

The reply was at the tip of her tongue, but Maria stayed silent and merely shrugged. As if sensing her hesitation, Natasha turned to look at her. The redhead blinked slowly; a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips, like she was trying to apologise for the little trick she’d pulled. Maria’s shoulders sagged, and she gave her a reassuring nod.

And just like that, Natasha’s face lit up with a grin, her eyes locked with Maria’s even as she answered Clint, “Her fiancée, her problem.”

And she’d stolen the words right out of Maria’s mouth.

* * *

“I can almost _hear_ you thinking.”

Maria’s eyes were still fixed on the road ahead even as she said the words. She heard Natasha sigh beside her.

“How… how’s the shoulder?” the redhead asked, “You sure you don’t want to let me drive?”

 _That’s not what you were thinking_.

“It’s fine, and we’re almost halfway there,” Maria said, shooting her a quick side glance, “There’s just a few hours left.”

Natasha scoffed audibly at that, knowing that it was going to be a lot more than ‘just a few’ hours of travel. But Maria’s one-hand-driving game was top-class, given the number of times she’d had to simultaneously drive and shoot the rivals she was pursuing (or being pursued by).

If she was being honest, though, Maria was already tired. Her muscles were sore from being in that position for so long, and there was dull ache in her wounded shoulder that she knew was only going to get worse with time.

“We could take a break,” Maria suggested, spotting a drive-through restaurant coming into view, “You hungry?”

Natasha hummed in approval and Maria promptly veered the car into the queue with a couple more sedans ahead of them. They quickly placed their orders, and then Maria pulled over to an empty spot so that they could wait and finish eating.

They picked at their food silence for a while, not really putting any of it in their mouths, and Maria noticed the redhead’s gaze fixed on her lap.

“Hey,” she nudged Natasha’s arm lightly, making her look up, “I’m not mad at you, you know. About earlier.”

“Yeah, I know,” Natasha said, smiling back, “You have a high tolerance for douchebaggery.”

Maria laughed outright, “Well, where we work, it pays to be accommodative.”

Natasha shook her head, “It just makes you wonder…”

She trailed off, her eyes dropping down once more, and Maria nudged her arm again, “Hey, tell me.”

“I’m trouble, Maria,” the redhead said, sighing heavily as she looked up, “I disobey you almost all the time, and I’ve given you a hard time way more than once,” she let out a dry laugh, “I’ve barely been a decent girlfriend, what even made you think that I would be wife material?”

Maria observed her for a while, thrown off by the sudden openness. It was a rare moment of such bare vulnerability, and Maria didn’t know how to deal with it.

She was used to Natasha being all suave and cheeky. But right now, the redhead just looked small and insecure, and Maria could hardly bear to look at her. Maria didn’t know what had spurred this bout of self-doubt, but all she cared about right now was making it go away.

“You’re right,” Maria said eventually, “There are many things about you that annoy me to no end.”

Natasha looked up and pursed her lips, waiting for the long-overdue rebuke she thought she was going to get. Maria held her gaze firmly before she spoke.

“I hate the way you just guess – and guess _correctly_ – the killer in every book or movie,” she said, “We get to watch, what, _th_ _ree movies_ in a year? And you have to go ahead and spoil even those for me.”

A smile threatened to escape the redhead’s lips, but she curbed it, her green orbs glimmering in anticipation.

“I hate how you don’t even _try_ to make your handwriting legible,” Maria added, “Like, straight-up, your reports look like a bunch of ants just stepped into ink and crawled all over the paper.”

Natasha let herself grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Maria found her own heart melting.

“I hate the way you downplay your pain, every time,” she whispered, “Because you don’t want me to worry. Or because you think you deserve it.”

The redhead tried to look away, but Maria drilled her eyes into the woman, willing her to face her.

“I hate the fact that even after all this while,” Maria continued, “You sometimes still don’t think you’re worthy of being happy. Of being loved.”

Natasha gave her a sad smile, and Maria returned a warm grin, determined to turn things around, “But despite all that, there are so many more things that I absolutely love about you.”

Maria looked deep into the redhead’s emeralds, the warmth in them filling her with a sense of peace.

“I love the way you _care_ – more than you’ll ever admit – even when you don’t want to,” Maria began, “You used to do it even before we got together, and I was charmed by it back then as well.”

“I love the way you know what I need better than I do, at times,” Maria said, “Whether it’s a neck massage after a particularly shitty day. Or some literal ass whooping at the sparring ring, when I’m being too stubborn.”

Natasha finally grinned fully, and Maria continued, “I love the way you somehow manage to make me smile, even when life doesn’t give us any reason to.”

“I love how I keep giving _you_ the choice,” she said quietly, “But you always choose what _I_ want.”

“I love how you keep trying to win against me,” Maria said, her own voice hitching, “But you don’t seem to realise that as long as I have you, I’ve already won.”

“I love the way you love me _,_ ” Maria breathed, her eyes softening at the disbelief on Natasha’s face, “Quietly, but blindingly. Recklessly, but staunchly.”

Maria let out a sigh, the emotions weighing down on her as well, “Given that I’m hardly the easiest person to be around, I can’t think of anything more to expect from my wife. I know I can be –”

“ _Stop, please,”_ Natasha whispered, her voice strangled, “Don’t… just… I can’t…”

 _Can’t what?_ Maria wanted to ask, _can’t believe that you could be this amazing? Can’t believe that someone could actually feel this strongly about you?_

The redhead shook her head, and then scrambled to stash her food on top of the glove compartment before rushing forward and kissing Maria. Maria kept her own takeout container away before cupping Natasha’s head, pulling closer.

They broke apart after a while, but Natasha kept her forehead pressed against Maria’s, her thumb gently stroking her cheek.

“For someone who claims to be emotionally challenged,” the redhead hummed, “You say the most perfect things sometimes.”

Maria laughed softly, “I try.”

“No, you don’t get it, Maria,” Natasha said, pulling back fully, “ _I_ love the way _you_ love me too.”

Maria was going to tell the redhead that she didn’t need to repeat everything she had said, but Natasha cut her off before she could even open her mouth, “It’s ironic, really.”

“You’re the most stoic and reserved person that I know,” Natasha said, her smile radiant, “And yet, the way you love me is so… _unabashed_ and unrestrained. Like it couldn’t come more naturally to you.”

“It’s as burning as it is healing, and sometimes, I just don’t know what to do with it,” the redhead exhaled, “Then again, I also don’t know what I would do _without_ it.”

Natasha took Maria’s good hand and placed a fervent kiss on her knuckles, “But I’m sure I never want to find out.”

Maria gave her the warmest smile she could muster, “Sounds like someone just wrote her vows.”

The redhead dropped her gaze, a shy smile tugging at her lips, and looked away. Maria saw the rosy tinge on Natasha’s cheeks, and she had to remind herself to breathe. The woman was beautiful as it is, but Natasha blushing was downright _fatal._

 _Damn,_ Maria smiled to herself at the choice of words, _the woman is really going to be the death of me._

* * *

Maria visibly cringed when she heard Natasha slurp the last drops of her coke loudly.

Seeing the faux glare on Maria’s face, the redhead did it again, wiggling her eyebrows as well this time. And Maria had to smother her smile at the rather adorable scene. Natasha kept sucking through the straw, like she was trying to magically _create_ some more of the drink, and Maria simply shook her head at her antics.

The redhead finally set down the cup, about a _year_ later, and Maria smirked at her, “I see, you’ve finally had enough.”

Natasha licked her lips, savouring the aftertaste, “I could never have enough of you.”

_And she’s back._

“Good, then,” Maria replied, grinning at her witty fiancée, “Do you need anything else? Do I need to pull over at a dessert place?”

Maria scanned the redhead’s eyes as she spoke. _Do you have any more insecurities that need to be dispelled?_

But Natasha’s orbs were clear as she smiled back, “Nope, just take me home, Hill.”

* * *

The road ahead was pretty much empty, and Maria risked a long glance at Natasha.

As expected, the redhead was gazing out at the scenery whizzing past them. Natasha had been spouting obscene-but-still-funny-as-hell quips at some radio podcasts that they had played, but she had fallen silent as they had neared D.C.

Maria wondered if the redhead was anxious about returning to their reality, after their little holiday. Wondered if Natasha was nervous about _their_ road ahead. About their future.

As if sensing the eyes on her, Natasha turned to look at Maria and shot her a genuine smile. And just like that, Maria felt herself relaxing, and she turned her focus back to the road.

Because she realised that the destination didn’t matter. Neither did the journey. It mattered _who_ was with her to make the trip. From the corner of her eye, Maria saw the fond smile still lingering on her fiancée’s face, and her own lips curved up. _The company has been great so far._

Besides, they didn’t even need to be _physically_ close. They’d been away from each other – fulfilling their respective duties – long enough to experience that just the knowledge was enough. The knowledge of their love.

And Maria knew that they’d have to be apart at times in the future as well, for reasons that would surpass all logic. But it wouldn’t make a difference. They’d eventually find their way back to each other. Back _home._

Maria caught a glint of the light reflecting off the ring on Natasha’s finger, and her mind drifted back to what she had said when she’d proposed.

_I just wanted this one part of my life to be normal._

Maria felt the sudden urge to laugh at her own words. Because their lives were _so_ not going to be normal. _They_ weren’t normal, their jobs weren’t normal, and their marriage was most definitely not going be normal.

Then again, normal was just too overrated.

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did drop not-really-subtle hints all along. 
> 
> Anyway, that's the end of this story (finally). 
> 
> I might do another short one. Might. But that's all for now. Hope y'all enjoyed it!


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